


The Cost of Salvation

by HIMluv



Series: Santa Sarita: Patron Saint of a Third Rate Smuggler [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lies, Love, Sacrifice, Secrets, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HIMluv/pseuds/HIMluv
Summary: After their brief encounter on the Nexus, Sara and Reyes cope with being a long distance couple in a galaxy determined to tear them apart. When his role as the Charlatan nearly costs her everything, Sara isn't sure she can continue to accept his secrecy.





	1. The Beacon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welcome everyone to the next story in my Sara/Reyes saga. Yes, it's turning into a saga, because these two just won't let me be. If you haven't read the first part of the story, please do. There's quite a bit of cross over between the last chapter there and the first one here, and you'll miss a bit if you just dive in here.
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone that read, left kudos, and commented on The Fall of Santa Sarita. You folks are just amazing!
> 
> So, without further ado, welcome to The Cost of Salvation.

Sara walked with Reyes through the docking bay, the silence heavy. Their hands hung between them, and it took a serious force of will for her to keep her fingers loose in his. But as the shuttle came in to sight, she found it difficult not to cling to him. Her limbs felt stiff and heavy, as if she were trudging through the biggest dune on Elaaden. She didn’t want this. She’d meant it when she’d asked him to stay with her last night. She was ready. Their six weeks apart while she and Scott recovered on Meridian had shown her just how much she wanted Reyes to be with her. Always.  
  
But, her question had frightened him. He’d never admit it, of course, and he’d played it off well enough, but Sara recognized the fear in his golden eyes. And the longing.  
If she was being honest, and she almost always was, she thought that’s what scared the Charlatan most. She had asked him to join her, to shake off Kadara’s shadows and slip into her own. And it sounded good enough that it scared him.  
  
So, he wasn’t ready. Reyes was careful, a planner, always in control of every aspect of his complicated life. The Pathfinder had a suspicion that she’d complicated things even further for him. She wouldn’t push him into this, though she wasn’t even sure she could. He could be a stubborn bastard when it suited him.  
  
Which was always.  
  
If he said he needed time, Sara would give it to him. She could do that much. But with each step towards his shuttle she felt like she’d fallen through the ice on Voeld. Why was this so hard?  
  
She watched with nervous eyes as the shuttle ramp descended. In a moment he’d walk up that ramp and disappear back into his dangerous world of lies and shadows. And though they’d said nice things about plans and getaways, Sara knew that their next meeting was far from guaranteed. Suddenly, she was desperate to do anything to keep him there with her, even if only for a moment longer.  
  
She cleared her throat. “So,” she said, staring at her shoes. “How well did you bribe that dock manager?”  
  
Sara swore she could feel the heat radiating off of his grin. She looked up when he tugged on her hand and pulled her up the ramp behind him.  
  
“I think I have some time,” Reyes said. “Why?” He shot her a frustratingly innocent look from over his shoulder. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
Sara waited until they reached the cool dark of the shuttle’s cargo bay to press him against a wall. Barely. He let out a surprised huff when his back met the metal wall, and she immediately went to work on the skin of his neck. The stubble was just making itself known and she relished the scratchy feel against her lips. As her mouth wound up to his ear, Sara could just hear the ramp closing behind them.  
  
“I’d really like the tour,” she whispered.  
  
He laughed, low and throaty. “Well, this is the cargo bay.”  
  
She made a show of looking around the room. It was small, and crammed full of shipping crates of various sizes, no doubt brimming with all kinds of contraband. But, it was orderly, and Sara didn’t doubt that Reyes had his inventory not only thoroughly cataloged, but memorized as well.  
  
“Nice crates,” she said, looking back at him with the perfect deadpan. His arms looped around her waist, and Sara struggled to keep the shudder from her spine.  
  
“That’s what all the ladies tell me,” he smirked.  
  
“I’m sure,” she purred. She resumed her attentions at his neck, continuing her explorations when he let his head fall back against the wall. They’d spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours reacquainting themselves with one another’s bodies, and Sara was a quick study. It didn’t take her long to press each of his buttons, and she could feel his heartbeat accelerating under her palm.  
  
She sucked gently where his pulse fluttered in the hollow of his throat, and smiled when he gasped. He swallowed, probably in an effort to regain some composure, but the movement of his adam’s apple was irresistible. Sara ran her tongue along the rough skin and was rewarded with soft moan on his lips. The sound was like a call, and her mouth moved up to claim his. It was easy to keep things sexy and teasing when she could run her teeth along his jaw, or nip at his earlobe, but when their lips met all Sara could think was that this was the last time she’d get to feel him pressed against her, to taste the coffee on his breath in the morning, to hear his soft, pleased moans against her lips.  
  
She knew then that she would give almost anything to never have to leave that shuttle. When his mouth grew softer under hers, when his lips lingered and Reyes brought a hand up to her cheek, Sara knew she needed to pull away. She needed to stay on task.  
  
She schooled her features into one of bright curiosity, banishing the depressing thoughts of goodbye. “Where to next?”  
  
He stared at her for a moment, the golden brown eyes searching under his furrowed brow. Then his face cleared and he grinned. “Cockpit.”  
  
“Sounds promising,” she said, and waved for him to lead the way.  
  
Sara tried to sightsee as he tugged her through the shuttle, but there just wasn’t much to be seen. It was a small craft, designed for a single occupant, but the Pathfinder was known for her creativity. His pilot’s chair had been particularly fun to improvise with, and judging from the heated glaze in Reyes’s eyes, he’d have a hard time thinking of anything but her every time he sat there.  
  
That was the goal. Fill this shuttle, his most private personal space, with as many memories of her as she could. Just like they’d done on the Tempest.  
  
After they caught their breath, Reyes took her hand and led her from the flight controls. He didn’t say a word as he pulled her toward the small loft space above the cargo bay, but she saw the tension in his shoulders, felt it in his grip.  
  
“This is my bunk,” he said, and he waved vaguely at the room in obvious discomfort.  
  
The space was small, cramped like the rest of the shuttle. There was a floating desk with a message terminal on the left wall, a sliding door that she assumed led to a bathroom on the right, and centered in the middle was a recessed nook where a mattress lay.  Above the mattress, sunken further into the wall, was a single shelf. Sara stepped closer to get a look, wondering what Reyes would keep nearest to him when he slept, the last items he saw before he fell asleep.  
  
The dog tags didn’t surprise her now as much as they would have yesterday morning. Alliance Navy, standard issue. Now that she knew about his father’s past, and Reyes’s own flight to the Academy, they made sense. She was just surprised that he kept them close, that he’d brought them to Andromeda. But there was another, much more interesting artifact lying on the shelf.  
  
Sara ran a reverent finger along the smooth beads that lay coiled on the shelf. “What’s this?” She asked.  
  
He didn’t answer right away. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still more fragile than she’d ever heard it. “My abuela’s rosary.”  
  
She looked back at him. The color had drained from his face, and the sharp lines of his tense muscles screamed that he wanted to bolt from the room. Sara recognized then what a step it had been for him to bring her here, and it made her heart crack a little. This man, so often hidden behind the carefully constructed masks of wit and charm, had opened himself to her in ways she never imagined possible when they shared that bottle of whiskey and the Kadaran sunset.  
  
She stepped back to him, lending him the comfort of her warmth, and put a gentle hand to his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me,” she told him.  
  
It was like she’d released him from a spell. He let out a rough, shaking breath and nodded, his eyes rushing to stare at the floor. She waited, her hands on his shoulders and her body against his, but she didn’t push against him, didn’t pry at his fraying edges. After a few minutes of silence, she could see that he was lost in painful memories, so she put her fingertips to his chin and brought him back to her.  
  
“I’m sorry, Reyes.” She meant it. It wasn’t her plan to pick at wounds he’d thought were long healed over.  
  
He shook his head. “I brought you here. I wanted this.” He pulled a steadying breath in through his nose, and when he looked back to her she saw color returning to his face. “I didn’t realize it would still be so difficult to talk about.”  
  
She kissed him, a promise that they didn’t have to talk at all if he didn’t want to. His mouth was soft and so suddenly unsure, but he followed without hesitation as she pulled him onto the bunk with her. She unzipped his jacket deliberately, making sure that nothing moved too fast. She wanted to take her time here, in his most private space to make sure that she didn’t cross any unknown boundaries.  
  
She slid the coat from his shoulders, and they paused their kisses long enough to pull his shirt over his head. There in his room it was like seeing him for the first time. She let her gaze travel the planes of his chest, the smooth muscles the result of an active life, not vanity as he was so eager to claim. No, Reyes’s body was a work of understated art, one that had to be felt to really be appreciated.  
  
Or tasted. Sara pressed tender kisses to his chest, her lips carving a gentle trail across his skin. She poured her affection into each one, determined that his heart would feel her adoration through their skin. As her mouth followed the downy trail of black hair lower onto his stomach, she unfastened the button of his pants, and he helped her pull them off.  
  
He came to life when he returned to the bed. He focused on her own pants, and Sara was surprised to see his fingers shake as he fumbled with the button. She watched him in silence, cataloging the changes in him.  
  
All the rest of their time together Reyes was always one quip away from making her laugh herself to tears. He always smiled or smirked, and his eyes threatened to wink at her at any moment. He was all bravado and confidence, even when he treated her with tenderness. But this man above her now was a mess. A gorgeous, vulnerable, so very human mess. He was unraveling in front of her, and she knew that how she treated him now could make or break their fledgling relationship.  
  
And so she was patient and generous, because Reyes deserved to have someone he could be human with. He deserved to have someone he could trust with anything, and Sara wanted so badly to be that person. The one he opened his heart to.  
  
The button finally gave way, and he let out a frustrated sigh. She remained silent, but lifted her hips so he could tug the pants down and off her legs. She pulled her shirt off and tossed it aside, then settled back into the mattress.  
  
Reyes moved to lay between her hips, and his whole body trembled against her. They didn’t speak as he stared at her, his eyes skirting across the landmarks of her face, as if committing her to memory. Sara just watched, a content smile on her lips, as she let him get his bearings, to build up to what he wanted to say.  
  
Shaking hands, hands with the nimble pilot’s fingers she’d come to love so much, brushed the hair back from her face. “Sara,” he said, the warble in his voice plain. “I-”  
  
It shouldn’t be this hard, she thought. It shouldn’t be painful or terrifying. When he told her the words brimming in his heart, she wanted it to be with joy. She smiled at him. “I know, Reyes.”  
  
He stared at her for another moment, unsure. He searched her eyes, unaware that he was telegraphing his every emotion. In his eyes she watched the fear turn to concern, concern to relief, and relief to shame.  “I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said.  
  
She smiled a little more. She could accept one truth in place of the bigger, scarier one. She knew what he wanted to say, knew what he’d finally admitted to himself. She wriggled to remove her bra, and Reyes pulled her underwear down her legs with slightly steadier hands. He pulled back far enough to remove his own, and then came back to her.  
  
She and Reyes had a very physical relationship. Their time was often spent alone and rarely involved clothing. There was chemistry between them, better than she’d shared with anyone else. But when they finally moved together in that tiny bunk, it was completely different. Always generous, Reyes seemed incapable of doing anything that didn’t completely satisfy her. Sara tried to focus, to tease and nip at his neck and shoulders, but she was quickly reduced to a melting puddle of need.  
  
Hands that so often wandered, lingering just long enough to spike her desire were purposeful now. He was a lover on a mission, and no inch of her skin would go uncared for. He was slow and deliberate as he coaxed her body to sing for him, her name cascading from his lips like the water on Aya.  
  
Eventually her name just wasn’t sufficient. A string of lilting, enchanting Spanish tumbled from his mouth and whispered his devotion across her skin. She didn’t understand a word of it, and it didn’t matter in the slightest. The rhythm of his voice was her anchor as she floated along waves of pleasure.  And when the pace increased he was there, sharp and in focus. The sweat clung to his tan skin, pooling in that delicious divot on his upper lip. His hair, still wild from the previous night’s shower, fell across his forehead in inviting waves and her fingers found themselves wrapped up in it.  
  
Sara felt the pressure build deep within her, and her arms wrapped around his back, her nails digging into his shoulder. She lost track of how many times her lips formed his name, unsure if she’d ever found the voice to actually speak it. And then his tongue trailed at her collarbone as he stepped up the pace again. It was like a dam giving way. Or stepping out into the Elaaden sun. Sara’s awareness expanded into white heat, and a sudden pulsing stillness. She was dimly aware of his voice above her, of the press of his lips to her feverish skin.  
  
She came back to him slowly, sensations returning with her thoughts. Finally she could focus and found him still laying above her, watching with tired satisfaction as she sank back to reality. She pressed her lips to his, grateful exhaustion keeping it chaste. He let his forehead drop to hers, his eyes closed in contentment. She sighed, a deep, bone-settling breath.  
  
“I love you too,” she whispered to him. She watched the smile curl his lips and felt the resulting glow in her chest. It was enough for now, Sara thought. He would leave, return to the dark world he’d built up around himself, but he could never doubt how she felt about him. Maybe it’d be enough to light his way back to her. Maybe her love could be a beacon that shone through the vast darkness of space, bringing him home.  
  
They lay there a moment longer, tracing idle paths along each other’s skin, and Sara never wanted it to end. But she knew taking any more of his time was just greedy.  
  
“I should get back,” she murmured. “The crew already has enough to talk about without me disappearing for another two hours.”  
  
Reyes nodded and moved to stand. Sara lay there another moment, watching as he pulled his pants back up to settle at his hips. He returned to her briefly, pressing his lips to hers before tugging on his shirt.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, then stepped into the small bathroom. A moment later there was the sound of water splashing in a sink.  
  
Still floating in the afterglow, Sara’s eyes wandered the room. They settled back on his tiny shelf, his most precious possessions. She desperately wanted to leave something of hers there, something Reyes would see in his first and last moments of consciousness. Her left hand fiddled with the silver ring on her right middle finger. It had been a gift from her parents for graduating from the Academy, and Scott wore its match. It was the only thing she’d brought from the Milky Way besides her family. And now there was only Scott left.  
  
She pulled the ring from her hand, an experiment in will, and then settled it back to the base of her knuckles. She did this a few times, as if practice would make the decision easier. She was still undecided when she heard the water shut off. Now, or never, she thought. She slid the ring from her finger and set it beside the rosary, but not quite touching it.  
  
As the bathroom door opened she stood and grabbed her pants. She slid into them and forced herself to act naturally. Reyes stepped close to her, and looped his arms around her waist.  
  
“Where does the Pathfinder go next?” He asked. His voice and demeanor were familiar again, warm, with a chuckle always lurking in his throat.  
  
She leaned into him, relishing the last moments of proximity to his body. “Elaaden,” she told him with a grin.  
  
“Only you would grin about running around in heat that puts the Sonora to shame.”  
  
She shrugged, and looked around for her shirt. “It’s beautiful, in its own way,” she admitted. “Plus, Scott hasn’t been planetside anywhere yet.”  
  
“So you’re taking him to Elaaden?”  
  
She laughed. “That’s where priorities take us.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow, but waited for her to put on her bra and shirt before she answered.  
  
“There’s some issue with the water,” she said. “I skimmed through the email from the Outpost. I’ll figure out the rest when we get there.”  
  
Reyes chuckled. “A Pathfinder’s work is never done.”  
  
Sara knew it was supposed to be teasing, a gentle phrase meant to bring a smile to her lips. But suddenly the weight of their situation pulled at her edges. “When will I see you again?” She hated the fear in her voice.  
  
“I’ll need to stay in Kadara for a while,” he said carefully. He moved to lean against the desk. “Keema says the Port is fine, and the Collective reports are straightforward and quiet, but there are some,” he paused and cleared his throat. “Complications that need attending to.”  
  
“Complications?” She didn’t like the conflicted look that crossed his face.  
  
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he promised. “Ditaeon is doing well, and Christmas runs a tight ship.”  
  
“Reyes,” she warned. He was hiding something from her.  
  
He sighed. “I promise, Sara, this isn’t anything big.”  
  
“But you can’t tell me?”  
  
He grimaced. “You have enough to think about without worrying about Kadara’s little turf wars.”  
  
“Someone’s encroaching on Collective territory?”  
  
“It’s just some Outcast cells that are trying to put down roots.” He walked back to her, putting his palms on either side of her neck. “Remember your words in Tartarus?” He asked, his eyes fierce in their gaze into hers.  
  
He knew damn well that she did. Sara still wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking when she told him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. “Yes,” she said grudgingly.  
  
“Trust me, Sarita.” He kissed her forehead, and smiled. “Go, show your brother all the sandy wonders of Elaaden. And maybe in the meantime I can think up an excuse for the Pathfinder to visit Ditaeon.”  
  
“Promise?” She asked, the smile creeping up on her lips.  
  
“Promise.” He nodded. He laced his fingers through hers, and they walked down to the cargo bay.  
  
The ramp whined as it descended, and the sound haunted her. She had done everything she could to stall the inevitable, but that had only made facing it even more difficult.  
  
“Reyes,” she said as they walked down the ramp. Before she could say anything else he pulled her into his embrace, his mouth searing against hers. She melted into him, a little whimper sounding in her throat. When they finally broke apart, he smirked.  
  
“Try not to get shot at too much, okay?”  
  
“No promises.”  
  
He shrugged. “Can you blame me for trying?”  
  
She shook her head, and hugged him tight. “I’ll see you soon?”  
  
“Yes,” he said. “And until then, I’m just an email away.”  
  
She nodded, trying to convince them both that emails could be enough, for a little while. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, and Sara took a deep breath before shoving off of him. He chuckled as he staggered back from her. He watched her progress down the ramp, his smoldering golden eyes locked to hers as she backed her way down to the LZ. When her feet found Initiative territory she stopped and waited.  
  
“Fly safe,” she called to him. He watched her for another moment, and then stepped back into the dark of the cargo bay. The whine of the ramp’s mechanism echoed through the docking bay, and Sara sincerely hoped it was loud enough to hide the sound of her strangled sobs. She retreated to the terminal corridor, trying to control her tears before someone would see her. But when she reached the railing that looked out over his landing zone, she stood against it and watched him prepare for flight.  
  
She could just see him through the windshield of the shuttle, his movements as his hands flitted over the controls, but she couldn’t catch his eyes or see the expression on his face. She waited until the shuttle was cleared for liftoff, and then stood back to watch the shuttle take off into the space beyond the Nexus. And if anyone noticed the Pathfinder’s tear-stained face, no one said a word.


	2. The Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you thank you thank you to everyone that left kudos and comments on chapter 1! It blows my mind that so many people are interested in this obsession of mine. Anyway, enjoy some emails and the arrival of an actual plot! Le gasp!

Reyes tried to focus on the shuttle controls as he listened to Nexus docking personnel murmur in his comm channel, but his eyes kept wandering to where she stood leaning against that railing, watching him. He couldn’t make out her face from there, but he could imagine the crumpled corners of her mouth as she struggled not to cry, and the wet trails down her cheeks when she failed.  
  
It had been so hard to let her walk away, so hard to retreat to his shuttle and shut the door on his time with her. If she hadn’t pushed away from him, he wasn’t sure that he could have put the necessary distance between them required to return to their lives.  
  
“Anubis,” A professional voice, probably Salarian, spoke in his ear. “You are cleared for take off.”  
  
“Roger,” he replied. He fought his own frown as he flicked the final switches he needed to power up the shuttle’s thrusters. The familiar thrum of power vibrated through his seat, and Reyes cursed as images of Sara perched on his lap flooded his memories. He glanced up and found her still standing there, straight backed and unwavering. Probably determined to see him off, no matter how painful it was for them both. She couldn’t see him any better than he could see her, but he held his gaze on her, just in case she could feel his eyes.  
  
The shuttle rose steadily, and then he throttled into a turn and sped from the space station.  
  
It was strangely familiar to fly away from the Nexus. He’d done enough of it in those early days, and he’d always been so excited, hoping that the trip would be the one that turned up something they could use. As the months wore on, Reyes’s journeys beyond the Nexus had become his only respite from growing tensions on the station, until one day he had just flown away among the shuttles of Exiles.  
  
But for the first time, flying away from the Nexus felt wrong.  
  
Reyes kept his eyes on the controls, though he didn’t anticipate any issues. The shuttle was his one joy outside of his time with Sara. Flying and maintaining his craft made him feel like he was still Lt. Vidal, or maybe just Reyes after he’d discharged. When he flew, there were no secrets, no masks to slip into, and no schemes to follow through with. No, when he helmed a shuttle, it was just him, his ship, and space. He was just Reyes Vidal.  
  
The inky black of space settled around the craft, and Reyes input the coordinates for Kadara Port. He’d be back at Tartarus in just over twenty-four hours. He glanced around the cockpit and groaned, his head falling back against the seat. If these memories kept haunting him, it was going to be a very long trip.  
  
There was a vibration at his wrist, announcing an incoming vidcall. He smiled. Already? He thought. But when he answered it wasn’t Ryder on the other line.  
  
“And just what are you grinning about?”  
  
“Keema,” Reyes greeted. He smoothed over his disappointment to smirk at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
“You should have known I’d be calling, Reyes.” The angara glared at him. “Two lines? I write you a full report, as requested, and I get two lines in response?”  
  
He ducked his head sheepishly. “I was busy.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Keema purred. “Tell me all about it over drinks when you’re home?”  
  
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” Reyes said, frowning at her dramatically.  
  
“Oh yes, that’s why we call you Shena.” Keema laughed, but Reyes thought he heard something off in it.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked, his tone suddenly very serious.  
  
“Nothing yet,” she promised. “But, we need to speak when you return.”  
  
“Does it involve your work?” He knew she’d understand what he was asking.  
  
She nodded. “There’s been a development since I wrote that last message.”  
  
“How big a development?” Reyes felt the blood chill in his veins.  
  
“Big enough,” she said. “Just hurry home, Reyes.”  
  
“I’m on my way.”  
  
She eyed him for another moment. “You look… sad,” she said.  
  
He stared at her. “What?”  
  
“I thought you’d be happy,” she said. “You were positively moping since Meridian. I thought seeing her would help.”  
  
He shrugged, looking back to the flight controls. “It did.”  
  
Keema hummed, obviously unconvinced.  
  
“We’ll talk when I’m home,” he said finally. “Goodbye, Keema.”  
  
“Stay clear, Reyes,” she said, and then ended the call.  
  
Silence filled the shuttle. His mind spun with possibilities. What could have happened that Keema would feel the need to call him? Why did they need to meet in person? That meant she didn’t trust their connection, or possibly the other lieutenants. But all the reports had been normal, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Reyes fired up his omnitool and flicked through the messages again, just in case he’d missed something.  
  
But, nothing stood out to him. There’d been a brief firefight on Eos over a lost shipment. His men had backed down when APEX arrived on the scene to avoid casualties. The militia had claimed the shipment and delivered it to Ditaeon. He considered that mission a relative success, and suggested its unit leader be rewarded. Getting into a gunfight with APEX over the merchandise would have been foolish since over half of it would have gone to the outpost anyway.  
  
He scrolled on, but eventually let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing in his reports that hinted at any looming danger. Whatever had Keema worried would have to wait until he was back on Kadara. He minimized the omnitool, and let the flight controls light the cockpit. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He could still smell her. The scent of mint lingered in the room, and in the dark he could just convince himself that she was there with him.  
  
His room would be worse. Maybe that’s what convinced him to finally get up and try to get some sleep.  
  


A vibration at his wrist startled him awake. Reyes’s first thought was that Keema had learned more about whatever her ‘development’ was, or that she had decided informing him over vidcall was worth the risk. But, as the omnitool lit with its dim orange glow, Reyes smiled.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  


_On approach at Elaaden. Prepare yourself for an onslaught of pics and vids of Scott hating everything!_  
_Also, I miss you already. I’ll talk to you soon._  
_\- Sara_  
  


He read through the message a few times imagining her excitement at her brother’s soon to be discomfort. As he closed down the screen a dim shimmer from his shelf caught his eye. He picked up the ring with delicate fingers. He immediately recognized the silver band with its cut away pattern of looping waves in a dark patina.  
  
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her without it, but he’d been a bit distracted in those last few hours together. She had never told him the ring’s significance, but he’d seen its match on Scott’s right hand. He knew that the Pathfinder wasn’t overly concerned with fashion. He’d never seen her wear more than a touch of eyeliner and mascara, and her hair was purposefully cut into a style that required no maintenance.  
  
So, that meant that the ring was important to her. Sentimental. And she’d left it there for him, beside his grandmother’s rosary. Reyes stared at the piece of jewelry for a moment, in awe. Carefully, he slid the ring onto the third finger of his right hand, where he’d seen Scott wear his. It was a little snug, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He flexed his hand, opening and closing his fist experimentally.  
  
The bright silver looked foreign against his skin, but it looked good. Right. Like having a piece of her with him at all times was only natural.  
  
Reyes went about his morning routine in preparation for his arrival in Kadara. His hair took some effort but it finally cooperated into his usual, tidy, slicked-back style. He traded his casual pants and shirt for his typical black and brown flight suit, and made sure the collar stayed snug. He didn’t want anyone in Kadara recognizing the healing bruises on his neck. Keema least of all.  
  
He spent some time down in the cargo bay, making sure that each crate was ready for delivery to their various buyers. The Nexus was always a goldmine of resources for Kadara, mainly because there was so much that the Exiles had left behind in their mutiny. If you knew where to look, an opportunist could make a tidy sum by returning trinkets and delicacies that had long been abandoned. And Reyes was definitely an opportunist. Plus, transporting goods was Reyes Vidal’s bread and butter; it would be strange if he returned to Kadara with no cargo at all.  
  
Finally, he had to admit that there was nothing else to do but to wait for the planet to appear in his viewport. Reyes settled into his pilot’s chair, forcing the image of Sara out of his mind. He checked the navigation instruments to be sure he was on course. As expected, all was well in the cockpit. He waited another moment, and then resigned to opening his omnitool. There were no new messages, which was both comforting and concerning.  
  
He couldn’t shake the tension Keema’s call had brought to his shoulders. The fact that he was unable to resolve the issue until he was planetside only made things worse. So, in an effort to distract himself, he wrote back to Sara.  
  


_To: Sara Ryder_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  
  


_Two hours out of Kadara Port. Send embarrassing evidence of Scott’s discomfort at your soonest convenience, I’m ready._  
_Also, I miss you too. I didn’t think it was possible for my tiny bunk to feel empty. You proved me wrong._  
_Looking forward to your call,_  
_Reyes_  


_P.S. I found something of yours in my room. Does that mean I get to keep it?_  
  


He sent the message with a smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure if she’d actually send any pictures or videos, but just the thought of the twins arguing their way through the desert was a humorous one. He was surprised when the vibration at his wrist announced a reply. Reyes opened the message and barked out a boisterous laugh.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  
  


_This is Scott as he steps off the Tempest and into the Outpost. First landfall. A very momentous occasion. Image attached:_  


The photo showed Scott walking down the Tempest’s ramp. He was shading his eyes with one armored hand, squinting against Elaaden’s brutal sunlight. His face was contorted in a look that was a mixture of disgust and discomfort. It was perfect.  
  
  
_This one’s pretty good. Safe to say, Scott LOVES Elaaden. Image attached:_  


Scott stood at the top of a giant sand dune, overlooking the Sea of Ataraxia. His mouth hung open as he took in the vast ocean of sand before him. Reyes could just make out the shape of the Abyssal arcing in the distance beyond Scott, but the man was unaware of its presence he was so entranced with the impossible desert stretched before him.  
  
  
_But, this one’s my favorite. Image attached:_  


Sara’s face was in the foreground. Her head was tilted slightly, and her eyes were bright and shining with mirth, her mouth wide with an exaggerated grin. Behind her Scott sat further up the dune, elbows to his knees and his head in his hands, completely unaware that his twin was taking a photograph.  


_And he hasn’t even visited New Tuchanka yet! Stay tuned for more._  
_-Sara_  


_P.S. Took you long enough. Keep it safe for me?_  
  


Reyes laughed at her antics, and saved the final image to his omnitool. He figured having her smile available on demand would be beneficial in the coming weeks. He checked the displays again, counting down until he arrived in Govorkam. He sighed; over an hour to go.  
  


_To: Sara Ryder_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  
  
  
_It’s so considerate of you to take your brother sightseeing before bombarding him with Krogan. I have to say, the last one is my favorite as well._  
_But, I’m biased. Your face is in it._  
_Missing you more,_  
_Reyes_  


_P.S. I won’t let it out of my sight. Promise._  
  


He sent the message and fiddled with the keepsake in question, his mind wandering. He imagined what it’d be like to go with her, to be a firsthand witness to her life. He could watch her back, share her laughs, and actually help her do all the amazing things she did. Reyes shook his head, displacing the thoughts. He’d turned down her offer, at least for now. Kadara needed him still.  
  
That familiar buzz at his wrist announced her reply, but instead of more photographs or banter, he found a message from one of his lieutenants.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Lynx_  
  


_The cave is lit._  
  
  


Any good mood Sara’s communications had brought him evaporated. Reyes sat frozen in his chair, his eyes reading the four words over and over. Four words that meant the base in Draullir had been discovered.  
  


_To: Lynx_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  
  


_Damage?_  
  


He waited for her reply, anxious fingers tapping out a staccato on the chair’s armrest. When his next notification came in he opened the message before the vibration even stopped.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  
  


_Aren’t I though? That’s what I told him, but Scott didn’t think I was very generous. That is, until he met Morda. Image attached:_  
  
  


Reyes didn’t bother opening the attached image, because another message announced itself.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Lynx_  
  


_Unknown. Currently assessing._  
_ETA?_  
  
  


He glanced at the flight controls. He would be at Kadara Port in about half an hour, but it would be impossible to avoid Keema if he went that route. He couldn’t land in Draullir directly, not without more information. Information he couldn’t get over emails.  
  


_To: Lynx_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  
  


_One hour. Ditaeon._  
  


  
  
Ditaeon was quiet as he landed the shuttle. Reyes was a frequent visitor to the outpost, so his arrival was only noted for its late hour. The cool dark of night had settled over the outpost, but that didn’t keep the dock manager cum requisition officer, Dru, from promptly greeting him.  
  
“Vidal,” the turian said. “You weren’t due for another day at least.” He reached out a hand to Reyes, and they shook.  
  
“Kid on the Nexus must have been cryo-fresh; he loaded the crates wrong,” he shrugged. “Initiative merchandise went in last. It’s gotta go out first.” He smiled, hoping the usually sharp turian wouldn’t notice the sheen of sweat on Reyes’s brow. He’d had to shift the crates himself, and it was not intended to be a one man job.  
  
“Figures,” Dru grumbled. “You staying the night, or do I need to get a crew down here?”  
  
Reyes grimaced. “Sorry to be an inconvenience, but I’m already pissing off clients by coming here first.”  
  
“Understood.” Dru nodded, and moved off to get a crew to unload Ditaeon’s supplies.  
  
When they returned, Reyes clapped Dru on the shoulder. “I promised a friend I’d check in next time I was here.”  
  
Dru shook his head, laughing. “Sure have a lot of friends, Vidal.”  
  
Reyes grinned salaciously. “That’s how you know I’m good at what I do.”  
  
The turian grumbled but waved him off. “I’ll lock her up when we’re through.”  
  
“You’re the best, Dru.” He pressed his hands together, as if in prayer, and then walked off into the dark.  
  
Lynx waited for him at the designated navpoint. Reyes wasn’t sure what to expect when he reached the small cave, but scorched armor and a wounded lieutenant definitely wasn’t it. She stood when she saw him, and did an admirable job of covering her wince.  
  
“Sit,” he said. No need for her to suffer unduly. “What the hell happened?” He leaned against the rock wall in an effort to look much more relaxed than he felt.  
  
“Still not entirely clear.” She shook her head. “One minute operations were fine, the next power had been rerouted and firewalls were down.”  
  
Shit. “Did they get access?”  
  
“Definitely,” she admitted. He could see the fear in her eyes as she told him the truth. “We’re not sure how far they got. But, we had power restored and kicked them off the servers within forty-five seconds.”  
  
Forty-five seconds was a huge window for anyone that actually knew what they were doing. A VI could do serious damage in that time, and Reyes knew SAM could cripple even the Archon’s fleets with that much unrestricted time. Whoever this was, if they could reroute his power and tear down the security measures, they definitely knew what they were doing.  
  
He gestured at her armor. “And the bullet holes?”  
  
“We were in the middle of diagnostics, cleaning up any loose ends and tracking their path in when I heard gunfire at the entrance. I ran out into an old fashioned shoot out.” She sounded annoyed, so he figured she couldn’t be too seriously injured.  
  
“Casualties?”  
  
“Minimal.” She shrugged. “Two newer recruits and Jak.” She tried to play it off, but the moonlight caught the hurt in her eyes as she said the Salarian’s name. He’d been her second in command, and a damn good agent. Losing him was a bigger blow to the Collective than both new recruits combined. And, apparently, she’d grown attached to the man at some point.  
  
“You’ve started evacuation protocols?”  
  
She nodded, glancing at her omnitool. “In half an hour, Draullir will be nothing more than a boring old cave network again.”  
  
“Good.” He nodded and shoved off the wall. “Get me a full report,” he said. “And find out what they learned. We need to do some serious damage control.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” she said and stood again. He felt a twinge of guilt and sympathy for this woman, his second most trusted lieutenant. But guilt and sympathy wouldn’t keep something like this from happening again. No, guilt and sympathy weren’t enough to keep the Collective safe.  
  
He stepped away, heading toward the cave entrance. “And, Lynx,” he called back to her. He shot a dark look over his shoulder. “I suggest you choose a new second in command quickly.” He watched the color drain from her blue face. “I need to know who to promote if you fuck up again.” He held her gaze, and was pleased when they took on a determined glint.  
  
“Understood, sir.”  
  
Reyes marched back out into the night, already exhausted. The moon shone bright on Kadara’s hills and increasingly potable pools, so he took a moment to enjoy the view and settle his nerves. Then he made his way back to his shuttle, and tried to prepare himself for round two of trouble. Hopefully, whatever Keema was so worried about wouldn’t be half as bad as Draullir being compromised.  
  
But, Reyes was a betting man; he knew those odds just weren’t any good.


	3. The Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you everyone for all your support! Your comments and kudos keep me excited to keep writing. This story has become so much more than I intended, and I'm so happy about it! Now enjoy some character development and fluff!

Sara glanced down at her wrist on the steering wheel for what felt like the millionth time. Still no flashing light to announce an unread message, just like there hadn’t been for over twenty-four hours. She frowned back out at the desert consuming the entire span of the windshield. Reyes had never replied to her last email. She knew he’d been close to Kadara at that point, but how could he not reply to a picture of Scott dodging a headbutt from Nakmor Morda? Especially with Drack laughing in the background!  
  
She glanced in the rear view mirror and smiled. It had been a long day under Elaaden’s unforgiving sun, hunting down scavengers and missing water pump parts, and it had taken its toll on Scott. Her brother, still in his full armor, sat in the backseat slumped against Drack’s shoulder, fast asleep. If she wasn’t mistaken, Drack hummed softly to the sleeping man.  
  
“It is a traditional Krogan lullaby, Ryder,” SAM said on their private channel. “It would appear that Nakmor Drack’s affection for you has grown to include your twin as well.”  
  
Sara smiled, and lifted her arm to get the right angle on her omnitool. “Snap a picture, SAM,” she whispered. She smiled as the image appeared for her to confirm or delete it. “Perfect.” That was another one she could send to Reyes once they were back on the Tempest.  
  
“I saw that, Kid,” Drack growled quietly from behind her.  
  
Sara smiled. “Just saving it for posterity, Old Man.”  
  
He grunted, but Scott rustled against him, and the old krogan froze, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Ryder.  
  
They crested a dune and the Pathfinder slammed on the gas, simultaneously disengaging the six-wheel drive. The Nomad rushed down the hill, sand spraying up against the passenger windows only to cascade down the sides with a deafening hiss.  
  
“How he can sleep with you at the wheel is a mystery,” Drack’s voice rumbled through her comm.  
  
Sara waved a hand. “He’s used to my terrible driving. We learned together back on Earth.”  
  
“Your old man was braver than I thought.”  
  
Sara snorted. “Mom taught us.”  
  
“Huh,” Drack grunted. “Well, she had to have a quad to raise you two.”  
  
“That’s the truth,” Sara agreed. Sure, Scott had always been the more reasonable twin, but that was easy to do when he shared the honor with her. Scott was always measured, methodical, and damn good at strategy and planning. He got those traits from their father, but thankfully he’d taken after Ellen in the personality department, who had always been quick to make new friends. Just like her, Scott was able to put people at ease and have them eating up his every word within a half hour of being introduced.  
  
Sara’s experiences had been… different. She was impulsive, trusting her gut long before her brain had time to make a decision. She was open and friendly enough, but she was blunt. She was the friend you went to when you needed to hear the hard truths. Which meant she didn’t have many friends, and the ones she did have were usually because they’d been friends with Scott first. Glancing back at her brother drooling on Drack’s armor, she smiled. Bringing Scott into the fold after she and her team had bonded was a nice change of pace for once.  
  
They reached the outpost, and Sara almost cried out when she felt a distinct vibration at her wrist. But, the call wasn’t from the Charlatan.  
  
“Addison,” she greeted. She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment. Even in her best moods the Director of Colonial Affairs put her limited patience to the test. At the end of a sun-scorched day, anxious for any word from Reyes, the woman was the very last person Ryder wanted to deal with.  
  
“Pathfinder.” As usual, she was all business. “How is New Tuchanka?”  
  
“Hot,” Sara said, parking the Nomad at the foot of the Tempest’s ramp.  
  
Addison rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the Pathfinder’s sass. “And the water problem?”  
  
“No longer a problem.” Sara winced as sunlight poured over her when she stepped out of the vehicle. “Some scavengers ran off with critical components. Killed the scavs, got the parts, saved the day.”  
  
Addison made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Was it necessary to kill them?”  
  
“Well,” Sara started, walking toward the largest building in the outpost. “Since they were determined to keep me from those parts, and they were shooting at me and my team, yeah. Pretty necessary.”  
  
“My,” she huffed. “You are in fine form today.”  
  
“It’s over 125 degrees Fahrenheit, I’m wearing twenty-five pounds of armor, and I’ve been fighting for my life for over ten hours straight.” And there’s still no word from my shady, crime lord boyfriend, she thought. She frowned down at the grainy image of Addison’s face. “Sorry if I’m not my usual, perky self.”  
  
Drack and Scott snickered from behind her, and Sara shot them a glare.  
  
“I’ll get to the point of this call then,” the Director said.  
  
“Please do.”  
  
“Taerve Uni is asking for assistance. A research team was scouting out territory previously controlled by the Kett. They were due back two days ago, but all attempts to reach them have failed.”  
  
Sara stifled a groan. As hot as it was on Elaaden, she didn’t really relish the thought of freezing her ass off, either. “All right,” she said instead. “We’ll find them.”  
  
“Thank you, Pathfinder,” Addison said. “You’ve done much for the outposts already, I know, but they need our continued support if-”  
  
“If we want to survive in Andromeda,” Sara finished. “Save me the Initiative brochure quotes, Addison.” She winced. That was a little blunt, even for her. She focused her attention on the Director. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “You know I’ll help the outposts however I can.”  
  
“I know, Pathfinder.” For a moment the woman looked like she was going to add something else, but she buttoned it down. “Good luck.” She ended the call before Sara could thank her.  
  
Scott moved to walk beside her, and clapped her shoulder encouragingly. “Wow, Sis. With interpersonal skills like that, it’s a miracle the Angara will even talk to us!”  
  
“Says the guy who slept through first contact.” Sara glared at him. “Twice.”  
  
“Well, you got me there,” he shrugged. “I was busy trying not to die.”  
  
“Funny, me too,” she said.  
  
Drack stepped between them and pushed them each an arm’s length away. “That’s enough, children. Let’s return these parts and get back on the boat already.” He stomped past them as the twins stopped in their tracks. They glanced at one another and then burst into fits of laughter.  
  


The Tempest was en route to Voeld when Sara finished her rounds of the ship. It was something she did after every away mission. She showered, and then she checked in with her crew, just to see what their thoughts were on the mission or if there was anything else they wanted to talk about. When she’d first inherited the Tempest it’d been odd, a circuit of forced awkward conversations as they all got to know one another, but now it was easy and usually relaxing.  
  
But even Cora could tell she was tense as she stood in the biolab.  
  
“Still no word, huh?” The huntress asked.  
  
“What?”  
  
“From Vidal?”  
  
Sara cleared her throat. “That obvious, huh?”  
  
“Yeah,” Cora said. “I just told you the same story, verbatim, twice.”  
  
“Shit.” Sara ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, Cora.”  
  
“It’s fine, Ryder.” She shrugged. “Do you want Matriarch D’Nali’s notes on meditation for distracted minds?” She pulled up her omnitool. “I can send you my favorites.”  
  
Sara buried her grimace. She knew Cora’s intentions were good, but the last thing she needed was some old Asari’s boring notes about breathing. What she needed was any sort of confirmation that her boyfriend hadn’t been shivved in some dark cave. Because that’s the kind of crap Sara‘s brain thought of; worst case scenario.  
  
“Thanks, Cora. That’d be great.” She’d probably never read them, but if she found herself struggling to sleep, the email could prove useful. “I’ll see you later?”  
  
“You know where I’ll be.”  
  
The speed with which the Pathfinder retreated to her quarters was probably unbecoming for a leader, but Sara didn’t care. She needed time to herself. She leaned against the door to her room and sighed at the blissful silence. A knock just behind her ear brought a screech from her throat.  
  
“Pathfinder,” SAM said. “Scott is requesting permission to enter your quarters.”  
  
“Go away!” She called through the door.  
  
“He cannot hear you, Sara,” SAM reminded her. “The Pathfinder’s quarters are soundproof.”  
  
She huffed. “Tell him to go away.”  
  
“He says, ‘No,’” SAM replied a moment later. “Also, ‘I’m not going anywhere until you let me in, Sara.’”  
  
She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Tell him I hate him.”  
  
“But, that is not true, Sara.” SAM’s cool voice sounded a touch confused.  
  
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “And he knows that.”  
  
SAM was silent for a moment. “He says, ‘You can hate me just as well when I’m inside.’ Pathfinder, I find your interactions with Scott to be very educational.”  
  
“I’m sure you do,” she grumbled.  
  
“My previous experiences with your father did not afford an opportunity to witness true sibling interaction, beyond his observations of the two of you.”  
  
“SAM?”  
  
“Yes, Pathfinder?”  
  
“Can you please refrain from speaking about us as if we are a science experiment?”  
  
“Much of my experiences with you are as such, Sara.” He paused. “But I will try.”  
  
“Thanks,” she said and then unlocked the door.  
  
“Took you long enough,” Scott complained as he stepped through the door. He headed straight for the couch, and flopped across it unceremoniously.  
  
“Come in, make yourself comfortable,” she said.  
  
“Thanks,” he grinned. “I will.”  
  
She gestured for him to lift his legs, and when he did she plopped down next to him. “God, I forgot how irritating you are,” she said as he stretched his legs over her lap. But there was no venom in her words. She let her head fall onto the back of the couch, trying not to think of Reyes sitting there, his face lit with the dim orange glow of his omnitool.  
  
“Still haven’t heard from him?” He asked.  
  
“Nope.” She let out a heavy breath. “I was about to send another email, with pictures from today, and an update on our trajectory when you interrupted.”  
  
Scott searched her face. “I mean, he’s okay though.” His brow furrowed. “Right?”  
  
“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said, trying to convince herself.  
  
“But…?”  
  
She glanced at him, and that was all it took.  
  
“Ah. Anxiety Sara is running through every possible situation that would keep him from replying.”  
  
She nodded. “Presently, I’ve settled on stabbed in the kidney and left to bleed out in some skeevy bar.”  
  
“You know it’s only been,” he paused and pulled an arm from behind his head to glance at his wrist. “Twenty-eight hours?”  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “I know it’s crazy. Which is why my email will just be an update from me, not a barrage of terrified questions.”  
  
“And you didn’t bring any of this up in our debrief twenty minutes ago because…?”  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. “That’s crew time,” she said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Post-mission conversations are the crew’s time to have my ear.” She shrugged. “It gives them a chance to talk to me about anything that might be worrying them, or any extra-curricular activities they might want to do.”  
  
“And when do you get to have someone’s ear?”  
  
She shrugged again. “There’s always Lexi if I start to feel overwhelmed. Or, I go have a beer with Liam. He’s great at talking about nothing.” She scowled at him suddenly. “And before you showed up, Gil was my sounding board.”  
  
He smirked. “Not apologizing for that one.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Like I expected you to.”  
  
There was a silence between them for a moment, and Sara fiddled with the laces of Scott’s shoes.  
  
“Look,” he said. “I know that you’ve had to deal with a lot.” He stopped when she didn’t look at him. “Sara,” he said. “I’m here now. I’m sorry it’s almost a year too late, but…” He trailed off, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. For Scott, that was an accomplishment.  
  
“I know,” she said, looking back down at his shoes. “I’m sorry too.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For this whole situation.” She waved her hand vaguely. “Your coma. Dad’s death. My issues.” She shook her head.  
  
“You can’t apologize for life, Sara,” he said. “I know that doesn’t mean you won’t try, but try and remember that. Okay?”  
  
She nodded. “For the record, I’m glad you’re here.”  
  
He sat up, and put his feet down on the floor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her temple. “There’s no where I’d rather be.” He paused. “Well, except for maybe Engineering.”  
  
“Ugh,” she said and shoved him away from her. “Just go! I have an email to write anyway.”  
  
He laughed and paused to kiss her forehead on his way out. She sat on the couch for a moment, and then moved to put on some calm music. The steady pulse of electronic music filled the cabin, and Sara sighed in relief. Too much silence was something she just wasn’t fond of; her mind came up with too many ways to fill it. She undressed and climbed into her bed. It felt huge without Reyes there, and cold. She left the bedside light on but turned off the rest so that it was dim enough that the blue streaks of FTL light flickered around the room.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  


 

> _Well, Elaaden was fun while it lasted, but you said it: a Pathfinder’s work is never done. We’ve been called to Voeld, which is bound to be as much fun for Scott as New Tuchanka was. Although, he always did like winter sports. He might actually like this one. I’ll have to see if I can fix that. I think I can do donuts in the Nomad on one of those frozen lakes…_  
>  _I hope all’s well on your end. I miss you. Maybe reply this time? I know it hasn’t been too long, and I’m trying hard not to worry, but you lead a dangerous life, Vidal._  
>  _In the meantime, enjoy this embarrassing/adorable picture of Scott and his new Papa. Image attached:_  
>  _\- Sara_

  
  
She sent the message off, and lay her head on her pillow. She didn’t really hope for a response before she fell asleep. Come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure what the time was on Kadara.  
  
“SAM?”  
  
“Yes, Sara?”  
  
“Can you tell me the time in Kadara Port right now?”  
  
He took a moment to do the math, which she was sure was entirely for her benefit. “It is currently 3AM local time in Kadara Port. For reference, it is 10PM local time in New Tuchanka.”  
  
That felt about right. “Thanks, SAM.”  
  
“Of course, Pathfinder.”  
  
She lay for a moment longer, hoping he was sleeping somewhere safe and sound, when her wrist vibrated.  
  


_To: Sara Ryder_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  


 

> _You’re right. That is both embarrassing and adorable. Although, mostly embarrassing. Who knew Drack was such a softy?_  
>  _Is everything all right on Voeld? Why can’t you ever go somewhere nice? Do I need to blackmail Addison?_  
>  _I’m sorry for the delay in communication. Kadara has been needy since my return. In fact, if you have any more pictures, I’d be happy for the distraction._  
>  _Thinking of you,_  
>  _Reyes_  
>    
> 

  
Sara smiled, relief rushing through her. As usual, she didn’t think before she responded.  
  
“Sara,” he breathed as his face came into view on the call.  
  
“Reyes.”  
  
“It’s good to see you,” he said. It was his typical line for when she showed up unannounced at Tartarus, but there was so much sincerity in his voice it startled her.  
  
“It’s really good to see you.” She didn’t even try to hide her smile at seeing his face. Even if he looked exhausted. She groaned. “I’m sorry, Reyes, I didn’t even think about the time.”  
  
“What?” He glanced away from the screen and then looked back to her. “I didn’t notice it was so late.”  
  
Her brow furrowed. That wasn’t like Reyes. He noticed everything, always. “When was the last time you slept?” He dragged his free hand across his face, and she noticed her ring there. That sent a flutter to her chest, but she stuffed it down to focus on his answer.  
  
“Um… Christ. On my shuttle,” he said, as if he’d just realized he’d been up for almost forty-eight hours. He rested his face in his hand, and his hair fell toward it in a tantalizing wave.  
  
“Is everything all right?” She watched him closely, and she felt certain that, had he been more rested, he would have smoothed over the situation. But, he was exhausted, and missed her.  
  
He sighed. “We had a security breach in Draullir.”  
  
“Shit, Reyes.” She sat up, running a hand through her hair. “Are you safe?”  
  
He chuckled. “Yes, Princesa, I’m perfectly safe.” He blinked, and the effort it took to reopen his eyes was obvious. “We know what they were after, and what they managed to get. Operations have been moved, and counter measures implemented.” He yawned.  
  
“So why are you still awake?”  
  
He looked at her for a moment, and she saw the exact second when he decided to lie to her. It flickered in his eyes, a moment of worry, of doubt, and then he was Vidal again, all charm and swagger. “And miss your beautiful face?”  
  
“Reyes,” she warned.  
  
His smile faltered, but he nodded. “I know. But, I told you the big thing, Sara. The rest is small. Details that need sorting and then assigned down the ranks.”  
  
She considered him for a moment. He was trying. He led a double life that demanded secrets be kept, and he was doing his best to tell her what he could. She understood and appreciated that. Plus, his plans and schemes, his role as the Charlatan, had existed long before she’d stepped foot in Kadara Port. She understood that too. And more than anything she just wanted to enjoy uninterrupted time with him, with Reyes.  
  
She nodded. “I miss you,” she whispered, lying back down.  
  
He moaned, his eyelids drooping over his golden eyes. “I miss you very much, Sarita.” He smiled, his eyes closing further. “I’ve been thinking about you, a lot.” His tone shifted, and though still tired, she didn’t miss the suggestive quality of his voice.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” She asked. “Like what?”  
  
He chuckled. “Pretty much just running our time on the Tempest on a loop,” he admitted.  
  
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s been pretty difficult to escape, especially in this giant bed, all alone.”  
  
He groaned. “You’re evil,” he whispered.  
  
She could tell he was fading fast. “Where are you?” She asked. “Tartarus?”  
  
He shook his head, which was still held in his right hand. “I’m at my place in the Port.”  
  
Sara had been there twice, once on the night Reyes had revealed himself as the Charlatan, after their dance. Another time had been right after they’d infiltrated the Archon’s ship. She’d died on that ship, and she’d needed to feel alive. Reyes was guaranteed to do that.  
  
“Get some sleep,” she said.  
  
He shook his head, but his eyes were still closed. He looked on the verge of passing out.  
  
“Reyes.”  
  
He stood, she could tell by the wobble of the video feed. “Stay with me?” He asked as he walked further in his studio apartment. In the dim light she could just make out the wall that separated the bedroom from the general living space as he passed it.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
His face vanished, and she was treated to a crooked view of his chest as he took off his shirt. “Talk to me. Tell me anything, at least until I fall asleep. My omnitool will shut down after you end the call.” She got a pleasant view of his abdomen as he pulled off his pants, and then he was just in his boxers.  
  
She whistled, and the camera went back to his face.  
  
“Perv,” he said with a tired smile. “Stay?” His brows shot up, pleading over worn eyes.  
  
There was a desperation in his voice that clenched at Sara’s heart. Had it really only been three days since they’d seen each other? How many more would it be before she could touch him again?  
  
“Of course,” she said. And she did. She told him about a trip they’d taken to Phoenix as kids, to visit her father’s family. It hadn’t been a particularly pleasant trip, as far as the relatives were concerned, but she’d loved the desert, even then. She was well into the story, telling of how Scott had been sunburned so bad that he still had scars from the blisters that had burst on his shoulders, when she heard a soft snore from her omnitool.  
  
She couldn’t see much, since his room was dark, but in the glow of his omnitool she could just recognize the outline of his face pressed into the pillow. Finally, he looked relaxed, his brow smooth, and the tense crinkles at the corners of his eyes forgotten.  
  
She smiled, soft and sad. “Goodnight, Reyes.” She paused, unsure of how open they were being, but then figured he was asleep, so what did it matter. “I love you.”  
  
She was a fingertip away from ending the call when she heard his voice, quiet and heavy with sleep.  
  
“Love you, too.”


	4. The Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All right! We're a third of the way through, so I hope you're ready for some plot! As always, a huge shout out to all you awesome folks who comment and leave kudos. You're amazing!
> 
> Also, HeadLadyInquisitor, I hope you're ready for some more sharp edges...

Reyes groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness. There was a painful, thudding pulse behind his eyes, and he had the distinct feeling of a hangover. By the feel of things, he should have had a whole bottle of Mount Milgrom to himself. But, he’d kept to his three drink maximum since he’d been back in the Port, so Reyes had to admit he was too old to pull all-nighters like he used to.  
  
He smiled as he remembered Sara’s voice coaxing him to sleep. He’d have to ask her to finish the story for him some other time. To think she’d been in Phoenix when he was stationed at the Alliance flight academy there! They never crossed paths, he knew, since the Phoenix metropolis took up over half of the state, but it was still strange to think how close it’d been. Granted, she was just a kid then, but he hadn’t been much more than that at just nineteen.  
  
Shaking off that train of thought, he prepped for his day. He’d slept through most of the day, but that was pretty typical for him; he kept unusual hours. Breakfast was a pack of protein sludge and black coffee to cover the taste, then he showered and wrestled his hair into the usual coif. Then it was into his armored flight suit, lace up his boots, and he was out the door.   
  
Even as unknown as the smuggler was, Kadara Port kept his skills sharp. He’d spent his entire life perfecting the art of being unseen, unnoticed. It was less about stealth than it was about belonging. When Reyes walked through the streets of the Port, his stride was purposeful. Only newcomers and people looking for trouble loitered. He carried himself with an air of humility and capability. It suggested that he wasn’t worth mugging, but if you tried you might get hurt. Not easy prey, and definitely not a predator. Just someone in between, trying to get by like everyone else.  
  
It was something he’d learned when he was with the Blue Suns. As the new kid he was a liability. If he was a burden, they would have killed him just to be rid of the headache. But, if he did too well, if he drew attention to himself, he’d never be able to slip away. And so he’d practiced blending in, disappearing into the background of any meeting he was forced to attend. When he finally made it to the Academy, the habits were formed. Reyes studied hard, poured his soul into becoming something else, someone else, but when it came to actually performing, he couldn’t bring himself to stand out from his peers.  
  
So every test he could have aced, he fell in among the average. Later, on every flight exam he made sure to mess up something, no matter how natural flying felt, because becoming the Alliance’s next hotshot pilot would mean attention, promotions, responsibility. And that all felt terribly confining. When he finally reached the peak of what he was willing to do with the Alliance Navy, he’d let his contract expire, and disappeared into his own business. And when that delivery service turned into a smuggling operation, Reyes was uniquely suited to perform well, even if no one would ever notice.  
  
It was second nature now, blending with the crowd. So he was surprised when he heard his name as he entered the lift to the slums.  
  
“Reyes Vidal,” Keema purred as she entered the lift. Several people exited when they saw her, and Reyes smirked. Keema’s role in Kadara was going well if the masses didn’t want to listen in on her elevator conversations.  
  
“Keema Dorghun,” he greeted. “Going down?” He lifted an eyebrow and made a show of waiting for her response before he hit the button to activate the platform.  
  
“Please.” She waited until the doors closed, and then she spun on him. “You sneaky bastard!”  
  
Reyes laughed. “I prefer ‘shady’.”  
  
“You’re that too,” she assured him. “You’ve been on Kadara for almost two days!”  
  
“I’m not avoiding you, Keema,” he promised. “It’s been a busy forty-eight hours.”  
  
Her celestial eyes widened. “It’s true then?”  
  
He glanced at her, a reminder that the lift may not be as secure as they’d like.  
  
“The cave was lit?” She whispered.  
  
Reyes sighed. “With floodlamps.”  
  
“That makes my news even more important,” she murmured.   
  
The lift settled into the dirt, and the pair walked toward Tartarus. They entered through the lower level so that Reyes could nod to Kian, letting the man know he was back in the building. There would be drinks at his room moments after they settled in. Keema knew the drill, and they made small talk in his room until the drinks arrived and the server left.  
  
She turned to him. “Tell me about Draullir.”  
  
He eyed her for a moment and then took a deep pull on his scotch.   
  
“You still doubt me?” She asked, hurt coloring her voice.  
  
Reyes rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t.” He shook his head. “It’s not a matter of trust, Keema, it’s a matter of keeping information compartmentalized.”  
  
“So don’t tell me where the new base is,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”  
  
He sighed. “At 11pm local, Lynx reported that the Draullir base had been discovered. She was unsure of the extent of the damage or who had made the attack.” He ran a hand through his hair. “By midnight I was on the ground at Ditaeon and evacuation of Draullir was well underway. Apparently power had been rerouted and firewalls bypassed for an entire forty-five seconds.”  
  
Keema hissed from beside him, shaking her head.  
  
“I’ve been working on what they were after and where they came from pretty much non-stop since then.”  
  
“And?” She took a sip of her whiskey.  
  
“No clue who they are, but they’re damn good. All traces of identity were wiped upon withdrawal.” Reyes grimaced. “What they couldn’t wipe was what they’d searched for.”  
  
Keema watched him carefully, and he had the distinct feeling that she already knew the answer.  
  
“They were searching for what connects the Pathfinder to the Collective,” he said, finally.  
  
Keema set her drink down, nodding. “That tracks.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her. They’d spent too much time together if she was starting to use his phrases. “What’s your news?”  
  
“More of the same,” she said. “Right after I sent my report we saw an energy spike. Luckily we were actively using the servers and caught it right away. They tried to route power to knock out the firewalls, but we were ready for that, and ran countermeasures immediately.”  
  
“What countermeasures?”  
  
She smiled mischievously. “We provided fabricated intelligence for their efforts.”  
  
Reyes nodded his approval, and took another drink. “What were they searching for?”  
  
“Information on the Pathfinder,” she shrugged. “Endeavors on Kadara, known associates, current location.” She watched him, letting some concern onto her features. “This doesn’t look good, Reyes.”  
  
“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted. He stared at the amber liquid in his glass for a moment, and then his eyes darted to Keema’s. “Where did you say she was?”  
  
“She’d just received the hail from Elaaden about the water pumps,” she shrugged. “So we fed them Voeld.”  
  
Reyes’s heart stopped that moment, he was certain. “Shit!” He jumped up from his sofa and paced the room, trying to contain the fear and rage racing into his shaking arms.  
  
Keema stilled, like a rabbit that had scented the wolf. Her watchful eyes followed him as he paced before her. “What?” She asked, her voice stiff with dread.  
  
“She left for Voeld last night!” He spun and took his rage out on the nearest object. “Fuck!” He roared, and flung the small table clattering across the floor. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to shred the seats of the leather sofa, to pull the terminal from the wall and throw it against the door. His blood boiled with rage, but his heart was iced over with fear. Instead, he stood with his back to his lieutenant, his friend, and tried to remember how to breathe.   
  
“I didn’t know, Reyes.” Keema’s voice was low and quiet. “I swear.” She swallowed. “This was days ago.”  
  
He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was true, he knew it was true. And still he was barely in control. He took a deep breath and focused on regaining his composure. Slowly, his body was his again. Instead of shaking limbs, the furious trembling of his anger settled within his rib cage. It would do for now.  
  
“Reyes,” she tried again.  
  
“Stop. Talking.” His voice whipped from his throat, silencing the angara. He took another breath. “Please.”  
  
He could feel some of the tension in the room evaporate. If he was using words like ‘please’, it was reasonable to assume he wouldn’t murder her right there with his bare hands. But, Keema was a smart woman, and she kept quiet as he struggled to bring his emotions back under control. No one in Andromeda had ever witnessed him truly angry. His anger was always wielded with a purpose, calculated words and tones to get results from those around him. But this display was raw and completely natural, and it was terrifying to them both.  
  
His omnitool vibrated at his wrist, and sudden fear made him hesitate. Then he brushed it aside and opened the message.  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Sara Ryder_   
  
  


> _Hello from frosty Voeld! There’s snow and ice everywhere, as usual, but the auroras are really lovely. You should come with me next time._  
>  _I’m sure I can find a rooftop, or maybe a cliff, and you can bring a bottle of something to keep us warm, then we can enjoy the view together._  
>  _Scott is having entirely too much fun, but I haven’t done any donuts on a frozen lake yet, so I’ll keep you posted._  
>  _\- Sara_  
>    
>   
> _Image attached:_  
>   
>   
> 

The photo showed Scott and Liam in the midst of what was obviously an intense snowball fight. Sara was laughing in the foreground. Reyes took a deep, calming breath. She was all right, laughing at her brother’s antics, and thinking of him. His wrist vibrated again.  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Sara Ryder_   
  
  


> _Update: I hate it here._   
>  _\- Sara_   
>    
>    
>  _Image attached:_   
>    
>    
>    
> 

Reyes huffed a relieved chuckle. This newest image showed Scott in the background, doubled over with laughter as Liam smiled sheepishly at the Pathfinder from over her shoulder. She glared at the camera, her hair dripping with the icy remnants of a snowball. Her nose and cheeks were bright pink with the cold, which only emphasized the bright blue of her eyes. Reyes saved the image knowing she’d hate it, but that one was worth keeping.  
  
“She’s all right, then?” Keema asked carefully from behind him.  
  
He nodded, still unsure of his voice. Keema didn’t deserve his anger, or at least not the full brunt of it. She had done well, as was typical of her. There was just no accounting for the Pathfinder. Hell, if he’d talked to his lieutenant sooner he might have avoided the whole thing. He was just as much to blame as Keema, and that was why he was so upset.  
  
“What do we do?” She asked.  
  
“She’s already on the ground.” He shrugged. “There’s not much we can do. I’ll just warn her to be extra careful.” He moved back to the couch. Sitting would help keep the nervous energy in check.  
  
“It’s not the first time someone has tried to lure her into a trap,” she said in an attempt to comfort him.  
  
Reyes glared at her, and the fire in his eyes made Keema look down. “It’s the first time the Collective has been responsible for it.”  
  
“And the last,” she promised. She met his gaze, and he saw the conviction in her nebulous eyes.   
  
Reyes nodded. “Any new developments involving the Pathfinder get pinged to me immediately,” he said. “Is that clear?”  
  
“Yes,” Keema said. Her voice made it plain that she understood that she wasn’t talking to her friend just then. This was a directive from the Charlatan himself; any further bungling of matters related to the human Pathfinder would have dire consequences.   
  
He returned his attention to his omnitool. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”  
  
“No.” She stood and she fidgeted with her hands for a moment. “I am sorry, Reyes,” she said. “I know how much you care for her.” Her voice was soft, with a hint of shame. “I would never jeopardize her intentionally. I hope you know that.”  
  
Reyes sighed, dropping his arm to his lap. “I know, Keema.” He didn’t look at her, unsure of which emotion would show on his face. Either fear or love, and neither were ones he wanted Keema to see just then. “Go,” he said, his voice soft. “We have a Port to run.”  
  
She hesitated, like there was more she wanted to say, but thought better of it. She nodded, and left him to the relative silence of his room. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then turned his attention back to his omnitool.  
  
  


_To: Sara Ryder_   
_From: Reyes Vidal_   
  
  


> _I don’t know, Ryder. Pink is a cute color on you._   
>  _As for drinking under the lights of Voeld, we might need more than whiskey to keep warm. I have some thoughts on that…_   
>  _Who cleans the Nomad if Scott pukes? Gil? In which case, what are you waiting for?_   
>  _I’ve had some troubling reports from my contacts in Taerve Uni. Suspicious activity abounds. Would it be silly to ask you to be careful?_   
>  _Dreaming of you,_   
>  _Reyes_   
>    
>    
> 

He knew she was out in the field, so he occupied himself with hunting leads that might help him discover the Collective’s newest attackers. The Outcasts were too scattered to pose such a direct threat. The remaining cells they hunted were ragtag groups of low ranking members. Half of them were willing to switch sides, and less than half of those were worth considering. As he worked, a request from Dr. Nakamoto was forwarded to him by one of his lieutenants. Apparently the doctor was close to a breakthrough on reducing the addictive qualities of Oblivion. He needed additional support from a science team and better quality lab equipment. Nakamoto was a good man, and reasonable. Instead of requesting new equipment, he’d suggested partnering with the Pathfinder’s team.  
  
Reyes smiled. What a wonderful excuse for the Tempest to land in Kadara. He approved the request, knowing that the doctor would be informed before the day was out. With any luck, Sara would find out today and be in Ditaeon by the end of the week. Reyes sighed, he could use something to look forward to. Like his omnitool vibrating.  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Sara Ryder_   
  
  


> _Don’t ever use the words ‘pink’ and ‘cute’ in reference to me ever again._   
>  _I’ll have to call you later and hear all about these thoughts of yours. I hope they’re as intriguing as I imagine them to be._   
>  _Ugh. If Scott pukes, Scott cleans. Unless Gil is feeling particularly charitable, which isn’t likely. More likely he takes vids of it instead._   
>  _Way ahead of you on the suspicious stuff. No one at the outpost sent the navpoint to Colonial Affairs. I’m checking it out now._   
>  _I promise I am being so careful._   
>  _\- Sara_   
>    
>    
> 

Reyes let out a relieved sigh. He should have known his Princesa would be a step ahead of anyone who tried to plot on her. Assured that Sara and her team could handle anything if they were prepared, he focused back on his work.   
  
The biggest part of Reyes’s job as the Charlatan was sorting and classifying data. He had a vast network of contacts and informants on every planet, and the stream of intel was endless. It was his task to read through it and catalog it by usefulness, and then send it on to the cell of the Collective that could gain the most from it. Occasionally intel would cross his screen that would be best put to use by the Initiative. When that was the case he sent it to Vetra, who then sent it to her various contacts within the Initiative. Vetra wasn’t on his payroll, and she’d made her loyalties perfectly clear, but she recognized a gift when she saw one.   
  
Theirs was a mutually beneficial relationship. She would occasionally fence merchandise for the Collective, purchasing goods from his agents, and then selling them to the Nexus, and vice versa. And, if she was feeling charitable, she’d give Reyes snippets of info about how the Pathfinder was doing. That aspect of their relationship had diminished since the twins had been cleared for duty, as Reyes and Sara were in much more consistent communication. But the turian had been a blessing while Sara was still healing.  
A knock on his door pulled his attention from the constant flow of data on his omnitool. He keyed in a code and the door hissed open.  
  
Kian poked his head in the door. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said. He brought a plate with a sandwich and a beer. Reyes didn’t want to know what passed for meat on Kadara, so he never asked.  
  
“Thanks,” he said. He scrubbed his hands against his face.  
  
“Busy day?” The bartender asked.  
  
Reyes eyed the man. He’d known Kian before the Initiative, back when his shuttle service had been a legit operation, but his friend had refused to join the Collective officially. He still fed Reyes information, and he was paid handsomely for it. That was partly why Reyes ‘rented’ the room in Tartarus, as a front for his steady payments to Kian’s coffers, but something kept his friend from committing to him fully. That meant Reyes couldn’t trust him, not completely.  
  
“You know what they say,” he smiled up at the man. “There’s no rest for the wicked.”  
  
“Ain’t that the truth,” Kian agreed, his thick brogue giving a pleasant lilt to his words. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he shrugged it off as Reyes’s omnitool announced a new message. “I’ll let you get back to it,” he said, and left the room.  
  
When he opened the message, Reyes was surprised to see that the time-stamp was so late. Had he really worked for almost eight hours already?  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Sara Ryder_   
  
  


> _Well, there’s good news, and there’s bad news._   
>  _Good news is, I’ll be in Kadara sooner than later. Doc in Ditaeon asked for Suvi and Lexi’s help, so I’ll see you soon._   
>  _Bad news is that there’s a good chance I’ll be confined to the Tempest while we’re there._   
>  _Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious._   
>  _See you soon!_   
>  _\- Sara_   
>    
>    
> 

His brow furrowed. Why would she be confined to the Tempest? Before he could even start to think up reasons or write a response, another message arrived.  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Scott Ryder_   
  
  


> _This is what “nothing too serious” looks like to her. Image attached:_   
>    
>    
> 

There was nothing more to the message but the picture. Reyes felt his stomach drop and then immediately try to climb its way up his throat. Sara sat in the back of the Nomad, still in her deep purple N7 armor. She was smiling and gave the camera a thumbs up, but her eyes were clearly unfocused. There was a trail of dried blood that fell from her nose onto her upper lip. A similar smear of blood obscured her tattoo, and had most likely come from her ear. He could see the beginnings of a vicious bruise on the left side of her face that climbed from her jaw to her temple, and her hair there was wet with blood.  
  
He dialed her immediately.  
  
“Reyes,” she greeted him with a dazed grin. She had a somewhat dopey expression on her face, like she was sedated.  
  
“Sara,” he didn’t try to hide his concern. “What happened?”  
  
“Ever fought an Eiroch?” She asked.  
  
He wasn’t sure he even knew what that was. “No…”  
  
“Well, apparently it’s mating season. That navpoint was in a den of a mating pair.”  
  
Reyes felt the color draining from his face. The navpoint that had been a trap set by his enemies. This was his fault. She was bloody and broken because of him.  
  
“We were fine until one grabbed me,” she said.  
  
He heard Scott scoff in the background. “It threw her across the goddamn cavern,” he said over her.  
  
She shrugged. “Better than eating me.” Her eyes drooped, and her head fell forward.  
  
“Sara?” Reyes cried.  
  
Scott was on screen suddenly. “No you don’t.” He pulled her head back up, and her eyes flickered open. “You heard SAM, you have to stay awake.”  
  
“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t look like she had much say in the matter.  
  
SAM’s voice was suddenly very loud, probably coming from her omnitool. “It is imperative that she remain conscious, Scott. Her efforts to free herself from the Eiroch were more than her biotic amplifier could handle. In its attempt to regulate the input of energy, it dispersed excess power into the Pathfinder’s nervous system.”  
  
“Less science, SAM,” Scott said. “What does that mean?”  
  
“She fried the amp,” Reyes said. “The extra energy had to go somewhere.”  
  
“Correct, Mr. Vidal,” SAM said.  
  
“Smartypants,” Sara mumbled.   
  
“The effects on her nervous system are currently unknown. I will need assistance from Dr. T’Perro to further assess the damage.”  
  
That sounded ominous. He kept his eyes on Sara, and she did her best to look back at him.  
  
Scott bent forward off screen. “Can’t you drive this thing any faster?” He shouted.  
  
“It’s not like a proper car, is it?” Liam hollered back, the fear in his voice plain. “It’s got six wheels! You ever tried to drive something that has six wheels?”  
  
“Yes,” both Ryders answered, though Sara’s voice was drowned out by Scott’s angry yell.   
  
“You look so worried,” she said to Reyes.  
  
“Because I am,” he said.  
  
“I’ll be okay,” she promised.  
  
He shook his head. He wanted to say that she couldn’t know that, but that was just terrible bedside manner. “How’d you fry your amp?” He asked, trying to keep her talking.  
  
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t really know. I just,” she paused as she thought about it. “It threw me, and I hit the wall.” Her voice was eerily calm, just recounting the facts as if she hadn’t experienced them firsthand. “Before I could stand it snatched me back up.” Her eyes met his, and he could see fear in them. He figured that was good. “I’ve seen them eat people. Just pick ‘em up and down they go.” She shook her head and winced. “I wasn’t going down like that.”  
  
Reyes smoothed over the sensation of horror in his gut. Keep her talking. “So you used your biotics to… what?”  
  
She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing I was ever taught.” Her focus spun away from him then, probably thinking of all the things she hadn’t done. “It was kinda like the detonation when an annihilation field drops. But, bigger.” She smiled at him, and there was pride in her eyes. “Much bigger.”  
  
Reyes had no clue what any of that meant, other than it had been an impressive display of raw power. Power that had put her life at risk. No, he thought, mentally slapping himself. _He’d_ put her life at risk.  
  
“Yeah,” Scott griped. “You’re a regular fucking Asari Commando.” He leaned forward again. “I swear to God, Kosta-”  
  
“We’re driving on ice,” he shouted back. “I literally can’t go any faster!”  
  
She smiled at their argument, but the expression seemed far away. “I’m glad you called,” she whispered. He could barely hear her, but could read her lips.  
  
“Scott,” SAM’s voice intruded. “The Pathfinder’s vitals are dropping. I predict she will lose consciousness in less than two minutes.”  
  
“Two minutes, Kosta!” He shouted to Liam.  
  
“Got it!”  
  
“Sarita,” Reyes called over all the mayhem. “Look at me!”  
  
She refocused on him, her smile brightening. “I’m here,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.” But her head sank lower as she said it.  
  
“Tell me about Arizona, Princesa,” he said. “Tell me about the desert.”  
  
She hummed, and lifted her head enough to look at him. Her eyes searched for him, but he could tell they never really found him. “It was so warm,” she whispered. “It felt like a hug every time you stepped outside. Like the wind itself cherished you.”  
  
“That’s one way to describe it,” Scott said.  
  
Reyes smiled. It was a very Sara way to describe it. “And the sky? Tell me about the sky.”  
  
“So blue,” she said. “Like the pools on Kadara. So open. It made you want to run to where it met the ground.”  
  
“Or fly into it just to see how far you could go,” he said.  
  
She smiled. “Yeah.” She looked at him, and her pupils dilated as she tried to keep his face in focus. “I should have known you’d understand.”  
  
“Body temperature is rising,” SAM said. “I am working to mitigate fluctuations.”  
  
“Sara,” he said as she closed her eyes.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Remember, you’re coming to Kadara.”  
  
“Yeah,” she grinned.  
  
“So, you have something to look forward to.” He couldn’t hide the thickness in his voice.  
  
Her eyelids flickered, and she found his gaze. “I’ll be there, Vidal,” she promised. Then her head dropped forward, her neck suddenly limp.  
  
“SAM?” Reyes shouted.   
  
The AI answered from further away. Scott’s omnitool? “The Pathfinder has lost consciousness, however her vitals are stabilizing. She will need to be revived before we can begin the procedure to remove the amplifier.”  
  
“We’re here,” Liam shouted.   
  
“Can I move her, SAM?” Scott asked.  
  
“You must,” he answered. “However, I suggest you stabilize her head and neck as much as possible.”  
  
“Shit,” he muttered above her. He glanced down and saw Reyes still on the screen. “Sorry, Reyes, we gotta go.”  
  
“I understand,” he said, even though he wanted to scream at Scott to leave the omnitool up.   
  
“I’ll message you as soon as I know more.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said and then the screen went black.


	5. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Of course, I have to thank everyone that has left comments and kudos so far. You are all amazing, and thank you for following me along this wild fanfic journey. It's blowing my mind.
> 
> Special shout out to HeadLadyInquisitor who was a huge help in ironing out the Spanish in this chapter!

Consciousness came to Sara in waves. Her brief moments of clarity were filled with voices; Scott’s sharp commands laced with fear, Lexi’s soothing calm as she narrated her movements. If it was for Sara’s benefit, it was a waste; she understood very little of what she heard. There were a couple times when she woke up enough to see, but the scene never seemed to make sense. Bright lights and intense shadows, the lines of faces and bodies blurred. The snippets of sight she had were fleeting and foggy, like a ship glimpsed beyond the morning mist.  
  
But she distinctly noticed the moment a warm hand found hers, and his voice was in her ear.  
  
“I’m here, Sarita.”  
  
She tried to say something, but couldn’t seem to make her lips move to form the words.  
  
“Shh,” he said. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”  
  
It was the best promise he’d made to her by far.  
  
From there it was just black. And warm. She was always warm, like she floated in a dark, tropical sea. When she finally rose to the surface, sound was the first sense that returned to her. Soft, steady breathing from beside her. Not deep enough to suggest sleep, but definitely relaxed. From further away she heard the distinct rasp of Scott’s snores.  
  
“Welcome back, Pathfinder.” SAM’s voice was soft in her head. She had questions, but struggled to find her voice. Then gentle fingers brushed hair back from her forehead.  
  
“I can hear you thinking,” Reyes chuckled.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open and she was relieved to find that the lights in her quarters were kept low. Whether that was for her benefit or Scott’s, she wasn’t sure. Reyes’s face came into focus above her, and she smiled.  
  
“Hey,” she croaked.  
  
“Here,” he said, and handed her a scotch glass of room temperature water. He helped her lean forward just enough to take a sip, and then his hand guided her back to the bed, where he lay beside her.  
  
“What happened?” She asked. Was that scratchy old crone’s voice hers?  
  
Dark brows pinched together. “What do you remember?”  
  
She took a moment to try and piece together the memories. It was like a jigsaw puzzle made of sand. She’d think she had one in her grasp and then it would crumble away from her. “We walked into the Eiroch nest.” She frowned. “It threw me against the wall,” she said, and winced at the memory. Her entire left side, from her head to her ankle throbbed as the memory sharpened. “Then it grabbed me.” She smiled as the memory focused. “And I took its arm off with a biotic blast.”  
  
Reyes stared at her.  
  
“What?” Was that not right? It felt right. How hard had she hit her head? What if she had amnesia?  
  
He cleared his throat. “No one mentioned that you dismembered the poor beast.” He smiled at her.  
  
She snorted. “This is the part where I say, ‘yeah, but you should see the other guy’.” She turned her head to better look at him, and hissed. There was a scorching pain at the back of her head. She reached a hand up to investigate, but Reyes caught it in his own.  
  
“Leave it,” he said softly.  
  
She groaned. “I fried my amp, didn’t I?”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “Not your first, then?  
  
“Hardly,” she snorted. “I blew through my first two Geminis before I finished training.” But, neither of those instances had hurt as much as this. She groaned as she realized that meant her amp was ruined. “There goes my Savant.”  
  
He laughed. “I promise you’ll have an even better one, once you’re ready for it.”  
  
She didn’t like the sound of that. It meant she’d be banned from her biotics for a while, and that was like telling a fish it couldn’t swim. “So,” she started, hoping to change the subject before she was thoroughly depressed. “What happened after that?”  
  
His face clouded as he sat up. Obviously he didn’t enjoy thinking about it. “You passed out when you reached the Tempest.” He took a deep breath. “When you did, whatever you did, you sent a blast of power to your amp. Too much power.”  
  
“Hence the frying,” she said.  
  
“Sure,” he agreed. “The rest is a little lost on me,” he admitted.  
  
“Allow me to explain, Mr. Vidal,” SAM chimed in. “The force of your impact against the cavern wall severely damaged your amplifier port, Pathfinder. One of the connections snapped entirely. Coupled with the fact that your biotic blast was unrefined and fueled with adrenaline-”  
  
“You mean it was badass,” she interrupted.  
  
SAM paused. “In comparison to your typical abilities,” he said after a moment. “That conclusion could be reached, however what qualifies as badass,” he said the word slowly, as if it were foreign to him, “is purely subjective. I am unable to define the event as such.”  
  
Reyes rolled his eyes as she smiled up at him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Your fancy AI agrees that you’re a badass.” He shook his head. “SAM, please continue.”  
  
“The unfocused power more than doubled what the fully functioning amp was designed to handle,” the AI said.  
  
“So I would have fried it regardless,” she said.  
  
“It is highly probable,” the AI continued. “With one connection disrupted, the remaining conduit attempted to route over four times the recommended power from your implant into a mass effect field.”  
  
She hissed, and the burnt skin around her head-jack seemed to flare as she imagined the scenario. “But, I still pulled off the attack.”  
  
“Yes, Pathfinder,” he said. “The conduit functioned well beyond the manufacturer’s suggestions. However, much of the energy was diverted from the weakened amplifier and into your central nervous system.”  
  
“That sounds… bad.” She glanced at Reyes, and saw the discomfort in his eyes. He did not like hearing about just how close they’d come to tragedy.  
  
“Had I not been as fully integrated into your system as I am, you would have died, Sara.” Even SAM’s voice carried a hint of concern.  
  
Reyes’s hand tightened at her hip. She raised a hand to trace his upper lip, and was surprised at how weak she felt.  
  
“How long have I been out?”  
  
“You’ve been in Ditaeon for three days. Surgery was completed the day before that,” Reyes answered.  
  
Her brow furrowed. “Surgery?”  
  
“The amplifier, in its effort to vent power, not only fried, Pathfinder,” SAM said.  
  
“It shattered,” Scott said from the couch.  
  
Sara tried to lean forward to see him, but Reyes’s hands kept her still. Scott groaned as he stood and stretched, then moved to sit beside her, opposite Reyes. He took her free hand, and it was such a relief to see he was okay, if exhausted. She caught a glance between the men, as if they were deciding how much to tell her. “Out with it,” she said.  
  
Scott sighed, and Reyes turned away. “Lexi had to dig shrapnel out of your head,” her brother said. “The majority of it was external, but…” He shrugged.  
  
“Some of it wasn’t,” Reyes finished, still refusing to meet her eyes.  
  
“So, what?” She asked. “Lexi performed brain surgery while the Tempest rushed to Kadara?”  
  
The silence in the room was deafening.  
  
“Holy shit,” she whispered. For the first time she worried about whether or not she was actually okay. “But, I’m all right.” She glanced between the two men in her life, between Scott’s tired but relieved face and Reyes’s tense back. “Right?”  
  
Scott smiled at her. “You’re goddamn lucky is what you are. There’s no reason some of the ceramic from the amp shouldn’t have lodged itself in your grey matter, or damaged either SAM or your biotic implant.” He shook his head, as if she were some meddlesome teen, not his sister recovering from brain surgery. “But none of that happened.”  
  
“Compared to the surgery required for implantation of both my interfaces and biotics, Dr. T’Perro’s procedure was relatively non-invasive,” SAM offered.  
  
Sara smiled, relieved, but a nagging thought haunted her. If it was so simple, if she was going to be fine, then why had Reyes turned his back?  
  
“I’ll go get the doctor,” he said, standing. “She wanted to know when you woke up.” He glanced at her and offered a small smile, then left the room.  
  
Sara looked to Scott, who frowned. They both knew SAM could tell the doctor over comms, but neither made to stop him.  
  
“He didn’t handle your injury very well,” her twin admitted once the door closed.  
  
“But, I’m going to be okay,” she said again, as if trying to convince herself.  
  
“Yes,” Scott said smiling, then he shrugged. “No one wants to hear just how close someone they love came to dying.”  
  
Her eyes darted to her brother’s. “He said that?”  
  
Scott chuckled. “He doesn’t have to.” He pat her hand, and it was at once condescending and comforting. “I’ve seen enough of Reyes Vidal these last few days to have no doubt how he feels about you.”  
  
She wanted to ask more questions, but the door hissed open and Lexi stepped in. Reyes followed close on her heels, and then hovered by the armchair near her armor locker.  
  
“Welcome back, Sara,” Lexi greeted. “How are you feeling?”  
  
Scott stood to give the doctor room to work, and moved to stand beside Reyes. Her brother leaned in to speak to him, who suddenly only had eyes for her as he stood with his arms crossed, a hand at his mouth. Sara tried to keep an ear on their conversation, but Lexi demanded her attention.  
  
“Pathfinder?”  
  
She looked up into gray eyes. “What?”  
  
“How’re you feeling?” The Asari repeated. “And be thorough,” she said. “The shock to your nervous system could have a multitude of complications.”  
  
Sara considered it. “Well, I’m tired,” she said. Lexi nodded, so she continued. “I feel pretty weak. And hungry.” She thought for a moment. “And really thirsty.”  
  
Lexi laughed lightly. “You were unconscious for the better part of four days. That’s all to be expected.” She flashed a light in each eye, as well as her ears. “Mr. Vidal tells me that your memory seems to be intact, but we’ll do more tests as you progress,” she promised. She checked Sara’s pulse and listened to her heart. “Any problems regulating temperature? Hot flashes, cold sweats, that sort of thing.”  
  
Sara shook her head. “I’m a little chilly right now,” she admitted.  
  
Lexi shot a sidelong glance toward Reyes. “I have a feeling that has more to do with the sudden absence of your personal heating blanket than it does damage to your nervous system.”  
  
“Lexi,” Sara chided, but she couldn’t fight off her blush.  
  
The doctor hummed. “Looks like circulatory systems are working properly.”  
  
Sara squinted at her. “You did that on purpose.”  
  
She laughed. “What is it humans say so as not incriminate themselves?”  
  
“You would ‘plead the fifth’, Dr. T’Perro,” SAM provided. He then proceeded to explain Earth’s pre-Alliance systems of government to the doctor. Lexi did her best to sound interested.  
  
Sara laughed at the ridiculous conversation and let her eyes wander back to Reyes and her brother. She was surprised to see Scott’s arm around the man’s shoulder as he joked with him. It was obvious that her twin was trying to cheer up Reyes, and it was just as plain to see that the smuggler just wasn’t in the mood, though the forced smile on his lips tried to say otherwise.  
  
“Well,” Lexi said to the room. “I’m pleased to announce that everything appears to be functioning normally.”  
  
Reyes shrugged off Scott’s arm as he focused back on the doctor.  
  
“And my biotics?” Sara asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.  
  
Lexi sighed. “Off limits for the time being.”  
  
“Estimated recovery time?” Reyes asked. His voice was sharp with focus, all business. Sara wondered briefly if this was a glimpse of the Charlatan, but the concern in his golden eyes made her think it was much more likely he was just worried.  
  
Lexi blinked at him, surprised by his bold request for information. “Well,” she glanced at Sara. “Depends on how cooperative the patient is.”  
  
Scott chuckled. “Let’s assume not very.”  
  
Reyes scowled at Sara, and the crease between his eyes made her smile. “Relax,” she said. “I promise to be good.”  
  
His expression softened, and moved back to the bed to sit beside her. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Princesa.” His voice was low, the words intended just for her, though she was certain they could all hear them. It didn’t matter, only she and Reyes understood their true meaning. His words, his voice, and the memory of that night, after they'd left Tartarus, combined to send a spike of heat through her.  
  
“I am detecting an increase in your heart rate Pathfinder,” SAM announced to the room.  
  
Scott laughed and Sara blushed. She looked up to Reyes and saw the hungry glint in his eyes, but his mouth was soft and smiling, teasing.  
  
Lexi cleared her throat, and the three of them turned to look at her. “Prognosis is similar to initial amplifier installation recovery.”  
  
“What?” Sara screeched.  
  
Lexi gave her a sympathetic smile. “Plus two weeks to give the burns and tears surrounding your port time to heal.”  
  
Scott stammered for a moment. Sara would have been awed by the sight of her speechless brother if she hadn’t felt the same way.  
  
Reyes looked around the room in frustration. “Someone want to tell the only non-biotic what the hell that means?”  
  
“Four to six weeks with absolutely no use of her powers,” the asari said. “Then two to three weeks of intense rehabilitation.”  
  
“Lexi, I can’t be out of commission that long,” Sara argued.  
  
“You should have thought of that before you ran headlong into an Eiroch nest,” the doctor countered, but there was no heat behind her words.  
  
“It was a trap!” The Pathfinder snapped. “I didn’t know what was in there.” At her words Reyes pulled away from her. It was a subtle movement; he shifted his weight to his foot on the floor, instead of his thigh that brushed against hers. That shift was enough to bring a tiny gap between them.  
  
“There’s no point arguing,” Scott said finally. “The damage is done. We’ll just have to work on getting you back out there as soon as possible.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and it stood in odd angles afterward.  
  
“So what’s the plan?” Reyes asked, as if he didn’t really want an answer. He looked between her and Scott, a slight desperation in his eyes.  
  
She looked to her brother and shrugged. “You’re in charge,” she told him.  
  
He scoffed at her and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
“You are,” she insisted. “I made you my second in command when you came on board at Meridian. And you heard the doctor; I’m out of commission.”  
  
“Huh,” he said. Apparently he’d never considered just what being her second really meant. “Well, in that case, there must be loose ends in Kadara that we can tidy up.”  
  
Sara nodded. “I’d check in with Christmas, he might have something for us to do.”  
  
“I can always provide intel,” Reyes added. “If we’re looking for excuses to keep the Tempest in Ditaeon.” He shrugged when they looked at him, as if to say, ‘just trying to help’.  
  
Lexi stood. “I’ve been busy these last few days,” she said with a pointed look at Sara. “I haven’t been able to check in with Dr. Nakamoto yet.”  
  
Sara smiled, and she was surprised at how tired the action felt.  
  
“I’ll let you get some rest,” the doctor said. Then she turned her sights on Scott. “You should sleep in your own bunk if you’re going to go gallivanting all over the Badlands tomorrow.”  
  
Scott’s shoulders relaxed a little at the thought. “You can count on it,” he said. “Turns out the couch isn’t that comfortable when you’re six-foot-three.” He stepped forward to plant a kiss on his sister’s forehead. “Get some rest,” he said, then flashed her a wicked grin. “Pathfinder’s orders.”  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. “Don’t let the power go to your head. If it gets much bigger, you won’t fit in the Nomad.”  
  
He laughed, pat her leg awkwardly, and left the room with Lexi in tow. She sighed in relief at the quiet. She’d been unconscious for four days, how could she be this tired?  
  
Reyes’s gentle hand brushed across her forehead. “How’re you really feeling?” He asked softly.  
  
“Suspiciously like I was thrown across a cave into a stone wall.”  
  
“Sore?” He asked, moving to lay beside her, careful to keep clear of her tender left side.  
  
“Only if I’m awake.” She tried to shift into a more comfortable position and grunted as her body protested. He helped her adjust, and the tenderness in his touch unlocked the door she’d slammed on all her trauma. The tears were silent at first, frustrated tears at her own helplessness. But then they just wouldn’t stop. She cried tears for fears of what could have been, for all the what ifs, and then tears of relief. She would be okay, eventually.  
  
“Hey,” Reyes said. His voice was soft, less to get her attention and more to soothe her. “It’s okay,” he promised. “You’re okay.” With soft strength he turned her onto her right side, and pulled her back against his chest. “Está bien, Sarita.” His voice was low and comforting at her ear. “Estoy aquí.”  
  
She sobbed. She was ashamed of it, but powerless to stop all the emotions from flooding out of her. Things she thought she’d dealt with reared up again, as if escaping from the prison bars she’d locked them behind. And through it all Reyes just held her, a steady stream of Spanish the only accompaniment to her grief. He didn’t shush her or try and diminish her pain. Sara knew she’d always be grateful to him for that.  
  
When she could finally breathe again she wiped at her face. “Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m just so tired of this,” she said.  
  
“Of what?” He whispered.  
  
“Of all the dying,” she said. “I’ve almost died four times since I came out of cryo.” Her voice trembled and she hated it. “I’m tired of other people dying,” she whispered, trying to ignore the image of her father’s face on Habitat 7 that bloomed behind her eyelids. “I’m just tired,” she sighed.  
  
“Then sleep, Princesa,” he said. He kissed the shell of her ear. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”  
  
Sara smiled, remembering those same words from days before, the only concrete memory from her time floating in the dark of her unconsciousness. She let out a deep, settling sigh, and despite the four days she’d spent sleeping, she knew she wouldn’t be awake much longer. She was dozing, clinging to the cusp of consciousness, when Reyes’ arm tightened around her.  
  
“Sarita, mi princesa,” he said. “Perdóname.” His voice was heavy in her ears, the weight of his words obvious even if she didn’t understand them. Something in his voice sent an icy tendril into her heart.  
  
It sounded an awful lot like he was begging for forgiveness.


	6. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Halfway there guys! It's weird to think about how far this series has come in just a few short weeks. What started as a guilty indulgence to pass the time at work, scribbled on receipt paper, has become a full-fledged series with followers and fans. Anyone who has viewed these chapters, left kudos or comments, subscribed, bookmarked, etc, you are... wonderful. Amazing. Breathtaking. Pick one. 
> 
> Now, enjoy some Reyes POV.

Those first three days had been busy ones for the Charlatan. Despite the doctor’s assurances that the Pathfinder would recover, Reyes couldn’t shake the worry and guilt that plagued him every time he looked at her. She slept peacefully, laying so still it sent a jolt through his heart, and he’d frantically seek out her pulse, or some proof that she was still breathing. And of course, she always was. SAM would notify them otherwise, though his functions were limited with his host unconscious.  
  
And so Reyes had turned to address the only other thing occupying his mind.  
  
Word traveled quickly through the ranks: whoever found those responsible for the Pathfinder’s injuries would be handsomely rewarded, not just with credits, but with the Charlatan’s favor. The promise of power was a strong motivator, and Reyes was confident that his enemy would soon be unmasked. And once they were, he would take Sara’s pain, multiply it exponentially, and then inflict it upon them. He wasn’t sure it would ease his guilt, but it would do wonders for the persistent rage that still simmered in his veins.  
  
It was early morning on the third day in Ditaeon when Scott finally asked what he was doing. The lights were low so as not to disturb the Pathfinder, or her twin, who had been asleep on the couch. Reyes eyed him carefully from the armchair in the corner of the room, nearest the bed. Nearest to her.  
  
Scott rolled his eyes from his spot on the couch. “You know I know, right?”  
  
Reyes held the man’s eyes, his expression carefully blank.  
  
“Everyone on this ship knows.” He chuckled. “Hell, I knew back at the Vortex, I just wanted to see what you’d say.”  
  
Reyes sighed. This woman was a liability, he thought. But it was just a helpless observation; he didn’t regret telling her about his alter ego, even if that meant her entire crew knew it too. He’d do it all over again, though he might have told her sooner just to avoid the anguish of that conversation in the cave.  
  
“I’m hunting,” he said finally.  
  
Scott’s eyebrows lifted. “For who set the trap?”  
  
Reyes nodded, his eyes returning to the constant data stream on his omnitool. The Ryder twins were sharp, and it was a relief not having to explain every step of his thoughts.  
  
“You know who they are?”  
  
“Not yet,” he said. “But, I have eyes and ears all over the galaxy, all of them with orders that this is the top priority.” He shrugged. “It’s just a matter of time.”  
  
Scott’s voice chilled. “And then what?”  
  
Reyes looked up at him. “Do you really want to know?” His voice was low, as if he was afraid Sara would hear him.  
  
The twin glanced at his sister. “She cares about you, a lot,” he said, and then he winced. “But, she can be pretty idealistic.”  
  
He nodded. It was something he loved about her. Witnessing her optimism and determination to see the good in everything was like walking out into spring’s first rays of sun after a long and dreary winter. “And you?” He asked her brother.  
  
“I can be much more pragmatic.” He said after a moment. Scott’s blue eyes darted to his sister, his expression hardening. “And unlike her, I can hold a grudge.”  
  
Reyes considered the man, seeing him for the first time as more than his lover’s twin. They were so similar; sarcastic, quick-witted, and observant. But, once he got past their similarities, both in personality and appearance, Reyes could see that there were glaring distinctions.  
  
Sara was warm, open, and often incredibly blunt. She shone bright as the sun in his dark world, in many ways his Santa Sarita, but she was quick to anger and often just as quick to forgive. She didn’t waste time, and once she made a decision she acted on it. Scott, on the other hand, was much more calm than his sister. As far as Reyes could tell, the man was rarely surprised or caught off guard. He was careful, methodical, and his research said the twin had trained as an Infiltrator at the Academy. Scott was ready with a quip and a smile for any situation, and Reyes admired that, as the sculptor admires the impressionist.  
  
He met her brother’s hard gaze, his decision made. “I’m going to find them,” he promised. The icy quality of his voice surprised even him. “And then I’m going to rip everything from them while they watch. And when they beg for mercy, they’ll see just how unforgiving the Charlatan can be.”  
  
Silence hung in the room, but if Scott disapproved, he didn’t show it. “She won’t like that,” he said.  
  
“No,” Reyes agreed. “She won’t.”  
  
“Will you tell her?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he admitted.  
  
Scott glanced at his sister, but she still slept. “Didn’t you promise not to keep anymore secrets?”  
  
Reyes felt a ghost of a smile curl the corner of his mouth as he glanced at the Pathfinder. “I tried to,” he said. “In her infinite wisdom, she wouldn’t let me.” He shrugged. “We agreed I’d tell her the big stuff.”  
  
Scott raised a dark eyebrow. “But, torturing and killing her attackers doesn’t qualify?”  
  
“I’m sure it does, and if she asks, I’ll tell her.” He considered it for a moment. “Probably.”  
  
Scott sighed. “Look,” he started. “I like you Reyes. You’re funny, make my sister happy, and you obviously care for her.” He shrugged. “I understand your need for secrecy and the,” he paused, looking for the right word, “unsavory elements of your position.” He eyed his twin, worry in his eyes. “And she loves you, whether she’s told you yet or not.”  
  
Reyes swallowed at the sudden thickness in his throat as he looked at her. He didn’t deserve her. He knew it, Scott knew it, hell the whole Tempest knew it, but she refused to see it. The sun in spring, he thought.  
  
Scott continued, “but she does have a bullshit limit.” It was a warning. “So, make sure you’re keeping secrets for the right reasons. There will be hell to pay when she finds out,” he said. “So be sure you’re willing to pay the price.”  
  
He nodded, suddenly unable to meet her brother’s gaze. He already knew he was willing to pay any cost to keep her beside him. He just hoped she’d continue to let him be in her debt.  
  
  


After Sara woke up, Reyes put the Charlatan away, only to slip into the mask when she slept. The data would be there, and while it couldn’t necessarily wait, caring for her was of much greater importance to him. The first few days were shaky. She cried, mostly in frustration at her own frailty, and she was angry. Angry at her body for proving her mortality yet again, angry at Scott for getting to run off in her place, and angry at him, though he wasn’t quite sure why.  
  
He decided to ask her on the fourth day after she woke up, while he changed the dressing on her port as Dr. T’Perro had shown him.  
  
“Is there something wrong,” he asked carefully. She sat in front of him on the bed, her back to him, and her shoulders tightened. It’d been a relatively good day; she’d walked the length of the Tempest for the first time, and only needed his arm in the homestretch back to her room. But, she was still sending him mixed signals. One moment she’d grin at him, proud to share her day’s achievement with him, the next she’d grudgingly let him tend to her wound, forcing herself not to flinch at his touch.  
  
She let out a harsh sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know,” she said.  
  
Reyes hummed, and removed the old bandage. There wasn’t as much blood today, he noted. Scabs were developing on the gashes that surrounded her head-jack from where the amp had shattered, and the suture from the surgery had lost most of its swelling. “Have I done something to upset you?” His voice was calm, even if his heart fluttered against his chest.  
  
“No,” she said quickly. She tried to shake her head, but he stopped her with a firm hand at the top of her head. “Maybe,” she added a moment later.  
  
“Do you plan on telling me what?” He kept the agitation out of his voice. He knew she tended to deal with grief by greeting it with anger, and she was grieving her biotics even if she knew she’d get to use them again. Instead he focused on cleaning the wound with the medicated wipes Lexi provided.  
  
She sighed again. She rubbed at her arms, but she didn’t seem chilled. “I don’t know, Reyes,” she said. “I’m just agitated. I forgot what my biotics feel like without an amp,” she huffed. “It’s awful, like bees buzzing just under my skin. And it’s only getting worse as I get stronger.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Princesa,” he whispered, but he knew that was only a part of the problem. It frayed at her nerves, but he was sure there was more to her testiness. With steady, tender fingers he spread medigel over each tiny puncture and slash on her head and neck. “Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
She shrugged, and said no more. With a deep breath Reyes forced his hands to be calm as he applied a fresh bandage. He pressed his lips to her shoulder once he was finished, and he was relieved when she leaned into him. They sat like that for a moment, and Reyes relished the calm between them.  
  
Then she spoke. “I had SAM translate what you said.”  
  
Reyes froze, his arms around her waist tightening reflexively.  
  
“Perdóname,” she said. Her pronunciation was lovely and he instantly wanted to hear more Spanish from her lips, but her voice was blank, lifeless. “Forgive me.”  
  
Fuck.  
  
She didn’t even try to turn and look at him. “Why do you need forgiveness, Reyes?”  
  
“Sara,” his voice shook. He cleared his throat in an effort to calm it.  
  
“Please,” she said, and it surprised him. “Please don’t lie to me now.” She sounded so fragile, like her entire existence depended on the words he was about to choose.  
  
His mind raced, searching for the words to tell her as much truth as he could without completely condemning himself. His throat was suddenly constricted, and he had to clear it again before he found his voice. “That security breach I told you about?”  
  
She nodded gingerly that she remembered it.  
  
“There was a prior attempt at the Port,” he said. So far, all true. “We prevented it, and provided false data as a countermeasure.” Still true. He took a deep breath. “Except, by the time it was utilized, it was no longer false.” It poured from his lips against the side of her neck, as if her skin were his confessional.  
  
“Voeld,” she said.  
  
Even as she held his fate in her hands, he was proud of her quick mind. “We were sleeping on the Nexus at the time, but Collective intel suggested you’d head to Elaaden next.” He hugged her, his chest flush against her back, and felt a flicker of hope when she didn’t pull away. “I didn’t meet with Keema until after our vidcall.” He hated the pleading tone of his voice, but it was the truth. And in that moment he’d give her any truths he could if it would grant him absolution. “I didn’t know, Sara,” he said. “I didn’t know until it was too late.”  
  
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t shrug out of his arms either. He held her, and she neither pulled away nor rested against him. As the silence extended his heart hammered against his rib cage and he was certain she could feel it.  
  
“That’s why you asked me to be careful in your email.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but her voice was laced with tension.  
  
“Yes,” he whispered.  
  
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” There was the anger she’d been stewing on for days.  
  
“You already knew as much as I did,” he said. He knew that wouldn’t make it better, but it was true. He was trying to be honest with her. “The call to Voeld was falsified, you knew you were walking into some sort of trap.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know anything more than that. If I told you the source, would it have helped?” He sincerely hoped the answer was no. “Or would it have only distracted you? Maybe even hurt you?”  
  
“It would have hurt less then,” she said. Her words were smooth and cold, and they cut through him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said. He hated the words before he finished speaking them. He wanted to take them back.  
  
“You say that a lot.”  
  
“I know,” he said after a moment. “But I am. Sorry, I mean.” He shook his head angrily. “I didn’t think the information would affect the way things played out. I didn’t think you’d need to know.”  
  
She spun, the movement startling him. He saw a brief flash of pain in her blue eyes at the sudden movement, and then there was just anger. “You don’t get to decide what I need to know!” The words tore from her curled lips. “If it involves me, you tell me.” She shoved at his chest, but she was still too weak to put any real force behind it.  
  
It was a demand, he realized. An ultimatum. He either promised her this, and kept that promise, or she walked away from him.  
  
“Is that too much to ask?” Her voice carried less anger, and he saw fear at the edges of her eyes. She thought it might actually be too much, that he might refuse. She really didn’t understand just how hopeless he was.  
  
“No,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re right, of course.” He reached a tentative hand to her face. She didn’t pull away, and he gave her a fragile smile. “I promise,” he said. “Any information that involves you crosses my screen, I’ll share it with you.” He could keep this promise, he was certain. Granted, when he was with her he felt like he was capable of anything.  
  
She let out a heavy breath, the day’s efforts finally catching up to her. She leaned her face into his hand, all the anger draining from her. But there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. He needed to allay her fears.  
  
“The Collective is following any leads on who set the trap,” he said. “All we know is that they’re intent on discovering what connects you to us.”  
  
“And apparently killing me,” she sighed.  
  
He nodded. “I fear it’s an attempt to destabilize Collective operations on Kadara.”  
  
“Is it working?” She asked, laying back onto the bed.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You’ve been in Ditaeon for a week now.” She shrugged. “Surely that’s had some effect on your operations.”  
  
He shook his head. “I’m still on Kadara, and my role is mainly… organizational these days.”  
  
She eyed him suspiciously as he moved to lay beside her. “Why don’t I believe you?”  
  
He grinned. “Because I’m lying.”  
  
She groaned, but smiled up at him. “I’m convinced that ‘Shena’ means ‘liar’, and the Angara are just preserving your poor feelings by telling you otherwise.”  
  
He pulled back to shoot an offended look at her. “You wound me, Pathfinder. Is a week and half really long enough for you to forget how I earned my codename?”  
  
She hummed thoughtfully. “I think I might have some amnesia after all.” Her brow furrowed and she tapped her lip as she pretended to search her memories.  
  
“Well,” he purred. “The doctor did say we’d have to run more tests.” His mouth dropped to her neck, and he was rewarded with a breathy laugh. “I’m more than happy to help you, Ryder.”  
  
She licked her lips. “That’s generous of you,” she murmured.  
  
He propped himself up on one elbow, the fingers of his left hand tracing her mouth. She was perfect, he thought. Even bandaged and healing, she made him crazy. Reyes didn’t try to smother the heat in his eyes, or the husky quality of his voice as he ghosted his lips along her ear. “If there’s one thing you should remember, Ryder, it’s that I can be incredibly generous.”  
  
  


  
The days blurred. As her strength returned Reyes spent much more of his time in bed. Sara’s mood stabilized as the days passed, and she only let the frustration show when her biotics were particularly aggravating. She claimed that the sex helped divert some of the unspent energy, but he suspected it had more to do with how abhorrent they found the idea of wasting time together. Reyes didn’t really mind what her reasons were; he didn’t need an excuse to share her bed.  
  
She rolled off of him and into a loose-limbed heap on the bed. She hummed with satisfaction, some tune he didn’t recognize, and twirled her fingers in his damp hair. There was stillness between them, the comfort of proximity rolling over him. He watched her, her eyes closed and her face serene with the aftermath of her pleasure. A pang of longing struck his heart.  
  
This was what he gave up. This feeling, the ease of being within arm’s reach of her at all times. The smell of her mint shampoo mingled with sweat on the sheets. The silky feel of her skin beneath his fingers, and her vibrant smile when her eyes found his. She’d offered it all to him when she asked him to to rule Kadara Port from her shadows. But, he’d turned it down. Not for the first time, Reyes doubted that decision. And after almost two weeks with her, caring for her daily, the thought of parting suddenly seemed crippling.  
  
He was about to ask if her offer was still on the table,when SAM spoke. “Pathfinder,” the AI’s voice sounded from his terminal on her desk. It startled her from her relaxed dozing. “Your brother is requesting permission to-”  
  
She groaned, interrupting the artificial intelligence. “Go away!” She threw a pillow at the door.  
  
“He says,” SAM answered a moment later. “’You both better be dressed by the time I get in there.’”  
  
Reyes laughed. “Tell him I know he doesn’t mean that.” He winked at Sara.  
  
“Gross,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, but she moved to pull on her discarded clothes.  
  
Whether SAM relayed his message or not, he didn’t know, but he followed her example and got dressed. The door hissed open as the hem of his t-shirt settled at his hips.  
  
Scott looked at each of them in turn from the doorway. “Christ, you guys!” He shook his head, stepping into the room. “Can you keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”  
  
Sara looked at Reyes, considering the idea. She looked back to her brother. “I can’t guarantee more than two.”  
  
Reyes chuckled and sat on the couch. Sara perched on the arm beside him, her back to him.  
  
“What’s so important that you had to interrupt?”  
  
“Bradley called,” Scott said, his voice suddenly serious.  
  
Sara perked up. “Something wrong in Prodromos?”  
  
He shrugged. “Don’t know yet. But he requested our presence.”  
  
Sara sighed, and leaned against Reyes’s shoulder. “When do we leave?”  
  
Scott winced and looked down at his shoes. “As soon as you’re ready.”  
  
Reyes wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ll get my things, Princesa.” His voice was low, and he was proud that he’d kept the disappointment from it.  
  
She nodded, but didn’t turn to look at him.  
  
Scott cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be in engineering if you need me.”  
  
Another wordless nod.  
  
Scott darted from the room and the sudden silence was cloaked with tension. Reyes waited to see what emotion would win out the battle within her. He’d learned that over the last few days; if Sara was quiet, she was grappling with thoughts and emotions, until she knew how to proceed. Finally, she sighed.  
  
“It was nice while it lasted,” she said. It was to be resignation, then.  
  
“Yes, it was,” he agreed. “I do have a request for next time, however.”  
  
She turned to him, one sandy brown eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”  
  
“No near death experiences.”  
  
She laughed. “I might not be able to keep that promise.”  
  
“Try?” He said, hugging her closer to him. “For me?”  
  
She put her hands on either side of his face. “I’ll try,” she promised. She kissed him softly, then pulled back to search his face. “You know my offer still stands, right?” It was just a whisper, spoken with no real hope he’d change his mind.  
  
His mouth went dry. He could accept her offer right now. Change his mind, take all his words back, and fly through Andromeda with her. He licked his lips, prepared to take her up on her offer, when his omnitool pinged.  
  
“Shit,” he said and looked to the message.  
  


 

_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Meritus Vex_  
  


> _We’ve got them._

  
  
Reyes kept his face perfectly blank as he read the email. An odd mixture of pleasure and regret pumped through him. This was why he belonged on Kadara. Sara was the sun in spring; her shadows would never be deep enough for the things he might have to do. The thought of dampening her brightness with his own clinging shadows was unacceptable to him. No, it was best he remain in the Port.  
  
“Everything okay?” She asked.  
  
He dismissed the message and smiled up at her. “Perfect,” he said.  
  
Doubt flickered in her eyes and the corners of her mouth pulled down. “Reyes…”  
  
He brushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing the tattoo on her cheek. “I promise, Sarita, if I find out anything more about our mutual adversary I will tell you.” And that was the truth. He didn’t know anything more. Not yet.  
  
She considered him for a moment longer. “Okay,” she said finally. She dipped back down to him, her lips quick to find his own.  
  
But as he kissed her one last time, he couldn’t ignore the persistent trickle of guilt that dripped in his heart.

 


	7. The Invalid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone reading along. You guys are just fantastic people, and I'm so glad you're all enjoying this fic! Now, enjoy Sara coping with being an invalid... poorly.

Sara paced the Tempest, a whirlwind of restless energy. It was only a four hour flight from Ditaeon to Prodromos, but it felt like ages. She’d started at the bridge, talking with Kallo and Suvi, but it didn’t take long for that conversation to take a turn that was better suited for her brother. She was smart, sure, and she was capable enough when it came to science basics, but planetary physics in relation to flight velocity was guaranteed to put her to sleep.  
  
So, she poked her head into the galley to see if Drack was around.  
  
“Ryder!” Jaal cried from his spot at the stove. There was a small pot of simmering liquid before him, the steam roiling from it a concerning shade of green. “Come!” He waved the spoon at her to enter the room. “I am just finishing my Toshaan.” He smiled at her. “Do you want some?”  
  
Before she could answer in the negative, Peebee appeared beside her, and shoved the Pathfinder into the room.  
  
“Ugh!” The asari said as she slouched at the table. “Is it supposed to smell like that, Jaal?” She looked to Ryder and put her hand to one side of her mouth, blocking the words from the angara. “I think Kadara smells better.”  
  
“I can hear you Pelessaria,” Jaal said. “And yes,” he sniffed at the liquid. “It is supposed to smell like this.”  
  
“Well, ladle us up two bowls,” Peebee said with forced cheer. “Or whatever you eat this stuff out of.”  
  
Jaal chuckled. “Bowls are the customary dish for soups, are they not?”  
  
“Sure,” the asari said. “In the Milky Way. I didn’t come all this way to eat boring soup out of boring bowls.”  
  
The angara set a steaming bowl of the thick liquid in front of each of them, before doling out a serving for himself and joining them. “We angara enjoy Toshaan from bowls,” he said primly. He carefully raised a spoonful above the bowl, waiting for the dripping to slow to a stop. He waited, letting it cool, and watched with amusement as Peebee shoved her spoon in her mouth.  
  
She swallowed and made a surprised sound. “It’s not that bad,” she said, turning to Ryder. Sara watched as the asari’s blue face intensified in color, and her hazel eyes widened. “Goddess’s tits it’s spicy!”  
  
Sara barked out a surprised laugh, and carefully sipped at her spoon, taking after Jaal’s example.  
  
“Is it?” He asked archly. “I do not think so.” He leaned to look across Peebee to Sara. “Perhaps Asari cuisine is… boring?”  
  
Sara took a tentative taste of the soup, and was surprised to find that she liked it. Jaal frequently cooked for himself, and was always willing to share, but after Suvi’s angaran movie snacks, Sara had been hesitant to try more of the Heleus Cluster’s food. The soup, Toshaan, was definitely spicy, but she liked it. It seemed plant-based, and had a distinctly green taste, almost like salad. The thick texture was confusing, since most vegetable-based soups on earth were brothy, but the spice kicked in toward the end and really brought it all together.  
  
“Jaal,” Sara said. “This is really good.”  
  
The angara grinned, pleased with her praise. “I am glad you think so. I made it for you.”  
  
Sara’s spoon dropped back into the bowl. “You did?”  
  
He hummed, then took another bite. “It is traditionally made for when a family member leaves home.”  
  
Peebee grappled with the pitcher of water in the center of the table, trying to pour water into a glass without making a mess. Failing at that, she drank straight from the carafe.  
  
Sara furrowed her brow. “The Tempest is my home.”  
  
Jaal looked at his bowl thoughtfully, then back to her, his head cocked to one side. “Is it?”  
  
There was water on the table, and dripping from the asari’s chin. Sara could nearly hear the drops hitting the leather of Peebee’s pants in the sudden quiet.  
  
“He means Vidal,” Peebee said after a minute.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at her friend. “Thanks,” she said. “I wasn’t sure.”  
  
“You weren’t?” Jaal said from over Peebee’s shoulder. “I was trying to be obvious.” He frowned at the table, then looked back to Sara. “Is communicating with all humans this difficult?”  
  
“Try talking to Scott sometime,” Sara suggested. “That should give you a good idea.” He hummed thoughtfully, and Sara tried to return to her meal, but suddenly didn’t have the appetite for it. She thanked Jaal for his efforts, and made sure he saved some leftovers for her.  
  
And so she resumed her circuit of the Tempest, hoping for some sort of distraction. She was on her second loop when Drack caught her attention by the Nomad.  
  
“Hey, Kid.” He nodded at her and she stopped in front of him. “Lil’ Brother’s taking the Initiatives with him to Prodromos” The old krogan grinned. “Wanna have some fun while he’s gone?”  
  
Sara cocked a hip and crossed her arms. “That depends. Am I going to get a lecture from Lexi because of it?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” he said.  
  
“Probably from Scott too,” Vetra said as she joined them to lean on the Nomad’s hood.  
  
Sara grinned. “What’s the plan?”  
  
  
  
  
Turned out, it was a very simple plan. Which made sense, because deep down, Drack was a very simple krogan. His needs, wants, and curiosities were often easily fulfilled. The problem with this particular scenario was that neither krogans nor turians could swim. That’s how the human Pathfinder found herself in just her Initiative issue undergarments, standing at the top of the cargo station staring down into rust-colored water.  
  
Because Drack wanted to taste a fish from Eos.  
  
Sara stood with her arms crossed over her chest, eying the water suspiciously. “Why did I agree to this, again?”  
  
“Because you care about your cranky krogan Papa,” Drack said with a toothy smile.  
  
Vetra snorted and lifted her omnitool. “And because you want to piss off Scott and Lexi.”  
  
“Oh,” Sara said, smiling back at her friends. “Right.” She eyed Vetra. “Are you taking pictures?”  
  
The turian shook her head. “Video,” she called back, and moved into position at the edge to film the whole thing.  
  
“Great,” the Pathfinder said. “That’s much better. SAM?”  
  
“Yes, Pathfinder?”  
  
“You’re certain that the water is safe for swimming?”  
  
“Yes, Ryder,” he answered. “The water is within acceptable limits for all major contaminants.”  
  
“Comforting.”  
  
“Also, you will be pleased to know that the pool is deep enough that you will not incur any injuries from your fall.”  
  
“Dive, SAM,” she corrected. “I’m going to dive in.”  
  
“That remains to be seen, Pathfinder”  
  
Drack laughed from behind her.  
  
“Are you taunting me?”  
  
“No. However, I should caution that your sutures may need attention after submersion.” If the AI could sound annoyed, he was pretty close. “Dr. T’Perro has not cleared you for prolonged liquid exposure.”  
  
Sara sighed. “Thanks, SAM.” She shot a look back at Drack. “You hear that? I might need new stitches because of you!”  
  
“Ha! Just jump already!” Drack stepped forward, threatening to push her off the edge.  
  
That was all the encouragement Sara needed. She took one last look at the water below her, and then took three steps back. Eos’s warm sun felt good on her skin, and if she closed her eyes she could imagine she was back on Earth, the breeze belonging to the Sonoran desert. And then she ran to the edge and pushed off.  
  
She’d always been a strong swimmer, much better than her brother, who always seemed to sink. It was second nature for her to curve her back into the dive, bring her arms forward, and slice through the dark water. Even to her diminished sense of hearing, she could tell the entrance was clean. She opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The water was dark, most likely developed that way to filter out radiation.  
  
“Sara,” SAM spoke on their private channel. “I am altering your heart rate. You must conserve oxygen if you wish to complete your task.”  
  
The accelerated rhythm of her heart slowed gradually, and her vision adjusted to the dark. She kicked an exploratory foot beneath her, curious if she’d feel the bottom, but there was nothing there. So, she kicked forward. Plant life was abundant, which she hadn’t expected, and it kept looming out to her from the dark. She hated it, and thought of stories she’d heard of swimmers getting tangled in kelp and drowning.  
  
She was trying to ignore the scenario blooming to life in her mind, when a fish darted out from among the weeds. It came at her at first, and she screamed a spray of bubbles in its direction. The strangled sound and sudden burst of air startled the fish, and it turned away from her. But not before Sara reached out and snatched its tail. It struggled against her grip, but she was already kicking to the surface. She broke out and into the bright sun, the fish held high in one hand.  
  
Vetra and Drack cheered from their roost on the top of the cargo dock, and Sara laughed. Their cries earned them the attention of almost the entire outpost, including Bradley, her brother, and…  
  
“Addison?” Sara asked as she pulled herself up onto the bank of the small lake.  
  
“Pathfinder,” the woman sneered. “Your brother was just telling us of your injuries.”  
  
Sara glanced at Scott, who stood just behind Addison’s shoulder, glaring daggers at his twin.  
  
Bradley grinned at her from beside her brother. “If you wanted to go for a swim Pathfinder, you should have asked. We could have loaned you a bathing suit.”  
  
Sara realized she was only in her underwear, standing before the entire colony and the Director of Colonial Affairs. “Oh!” She said. “Well,” she gestured to Drack as he stomped over to her, Vetra close behind him. “It was really a, uh, experiment.” She realized she had pointed to the krogan with the same hand that held the fish and hurriedly hid it behind her back.  
  
“An experiment?” Scott drawled.  
  
“Yeah,” Drack said, slapping her twin on the back. Hard. “Suvi said something about wanting to run tests on the fish.”  
  
“I think she wanted to test the scale composition of species that evolved in high radiation waters,” Vetra added. Her omnitool was now stored, but the glimmer never quite left her eyes.  
  
“And I was going crazy stuck on the ship,” Sara said. “I didn’t use my biotics,” she added. “I swear!”  
  
“So you jumped into the lake yourself?” Addison asked archly.  
  
Sara shrugged. “You’re the one who always says I have unorthodox methods.”  
  
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, as if he could unsee his twin’s antics. He raised a hand and pointed a finger at the Tempest. “Go.”  
  
Sara grinned. “Nice seeing you again, August!” And then she sprinted back to her ship, Vetra and Drack not far behind her.  
  
  
  
  
She showered and changed, and then checked in with Lexi. The doctor was displeased, but not as much as Sara would have thought.  
  
“So,” the asari said as she examined the sutures on the back of Sara’s head. “How was the water?”  
  
“Warm,” she said. “And really dark.”  
  
“And you still caught the fish?” Lexi asked, surprised.  
  
“Yeah,” Sara grinned. “Vetra got it all on her omnitool.”  
  
“She better send that ship-wide.”  
  
“I’m sure she will,” she said.  
  
“And to a certain someone in Kadara?”  
  
Sara laughed. “Where do you think she got the idea to film it?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. “I know he has someone on the ship that feeds him non-critical intel. And Vetra is a smuggler, who often purchases and sells to Collective operatives.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t take much to connect the dots.”  
  
“That doesn’t bother you?” Lexi asked. “That he spies on you?”  
  
“Are you asking as my friend or as my psychiatric professional?”  
  
“Both?”  
  
She shrugged again. “Reyes’s whole life is information. He buys, sells, and trades intelligence in order to make Kadara a better place.” She paused, considering her next words. “I don’t mind that he has contacts on the Tempest. In fact, I’d be concerned if he didn’t. I’d think he didn’t care.”  
  
“That’s a very generous point of view.” The doctor took a tube of something out of a cupboard. “I’ll need to resew a couple of the sutures, but you’re almost done.”  
  
“Will it hurt?” Sara asked, her voice exaggerated into childlike fear.  
  
“Only a little,” the doctor promised. “But, if you’re good, I’m sure I can find you a sticker.”  
  
Sara clapped her hands together with mock excitement. Then she sat still as Lexi administered the numbing agent, and then barely breathed as the sutures were removed and then replaced. “What did you mean that was a ‘generous point of view’?” She asked after a moment.  
  
“Just that,” Lexi said simply. “Not many would take kindly to their significant other seeking information on them from outside sources.”  
  
“Is that not a good response to the situation?”  
  
“I think it’s perfectly fine.” Lexi leaned over to look at Sara. “In fact, it’s probably why you’re able to maintain a relationship with Reyes at all. You’re open-minded, logical, but also very passionate. It’s a good blend for a long distance relationship with a morally gray crime lord.” Lexi grinned as Sara glared at her. “You’re all done,” she said.  
  
Sara slid off the table and was about to ask for her sticker when Scott stormed into the medbay.  
  
“You even got Suvi to lie for you?” He yelled in disbelief.  
  
“Scott,” Lexi admonished.  
  
“No!” He pointed at Sara. “Do you have any idea how much explaining I had to do to Addison?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You jumped into the lake! In your fucking underwear!”  
  
“Yeah, I did.” Sara stepped forward until she was staring up at her brother’s face. “And I’d do it all over again to see that bewildered look on her face.”  
  
“Are you trying to make this harder on me?”  
  
“Oh,” Sara said, crossing her arms. “Because I’d much rather be stuck on the Tempest for weeks while you run around and do my job!”  
  
“You didn’t even want this job!”  
  
“Enough!”  
  
The twins both jumped at Dr. T’Perro’s raised voice. Neither of them had ever heard it before.  
  
“Sara,” the doctor said. “You have been thoroughly chastised by both myself and your brother. Consider yourself on house arrest until those stitches come out.”  
  
Sara groaned, but Lexi shushed her with a glare.  
  
“Scott,” she turned her steely eyes on the younger twin. “You need to eat something, drink some water, and work on those meditation exercises I gave you.”  
  
Scott crossed his arms with a huff.  
  
“Now hug,” Lexi said.  
  
“What?” The twins asked in unison.  
  
“You heard me.” Lexi arched a thin eyebrow at them. “You’re twins and the only family you have left. You’re both stressed and on edge. Now hug.”  
  
Sara eyed her brother suspiciously. “Fine,” she said.  
  
Scott pulled her into a hug. “I love you, you brat.”  
  
“I love you, you big-headed oaf.”  
  
Lexi sighed, a hand to her forehead. “Good enough, I suppose.”  
  
The twins parted and went opposite directions. Scott was no doubt headed to vent to Gil and Sara was more than ready for some sleep. She would never tell any of the crew, but her day’s adventures had exhausted her. As she stripped down and climbed into bed, she emailed Reyes.  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder  
_

 

> _In case this didn’t make it to you yet, I went fishing today. Video attached:_  
>  _Hope all is well. Talk to you soon._  
>  _\- Sara_

  
  
When Sara woke up hours later, she was a little surprised there wasn’t a reply from Reyes. _  
_

  
“SAM? What’s the current time in Kadara Port?”  
  
“Local time in Kadara Port is 7am, Pathfinder.”  
  
She tried not to think about his silence too much. He was a busy man, with a very demanding dual life. She had to respect that. And it didn’t help that she currently had more free time than she’d had since coming to Andromeda. But, a part of her said, he does stare at his omnitool the majority of his day. She sighed and decided she would do her best to get up and go about her day. He’d reply when he could.  
  
Four hours later, she sat in the galley eating leftover Toshaan for lunch. She briefly considered sending him a photo of her soup, but figured that might be too cheesy. That thought sent her mind spiraling through memories of all the cheesy lines and puns he’d fed to her over the months. She snapped a quick picture.  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder  
_

 

> _This is soup Jaal made for me. It’s called Toshaan and is spicy delicious. Like a certain smuggler I know ;) Image attached:  
>    
>  _

“Please tell me you did not just send him a picture of your food,” Gil said from beside her. The fact that he’d actually sat down to eat was a small miracle. The engineer was constantly working on something, and usually preferred more portable foods, but since Scott’s arrival on the Tempest he’d made time for more nutritious meals. No doubt her brother’s doing; he could be a bit of a health nut.  
  
Sara shrugged, and returned her attention to her soup. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he said, taking a bite of salad. “Is that your big plan to get him to talk to you? Send him pictures of alien foods?”  
  
She glared at Gil. “Do you want me to tell Scott about the cookies you have stashed behind the drive core?”  
  
His fork clinked onto his plate. “How did you-” he spluttered.  
  
“I have my ways,” she said returning to her soup.  
  
He stared at her a moment longer, and then picked up his fork. “I'm not afraid to strangle a turian,” he mumbled.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Nothing,” he groused through a mouthful of lettuce from Cora’s garden.  
  
Sara laughed, but didn’t have the heart to threaten her friend further. She stood and rinsed her bowl. “See you later, Gil,” she said and then moved on to find something else to distract her. Liam and Cora were both planetside with Scott, which meant Liam’s beer cooler was unattended. She snagged a couple bottles, stopped by Vetra’s room to find the popcorn she knew was stashed there, and returned to her room to watch a vid.  
  
Halfway through, her pyjak, Perry, cuddled up to her on the couch. She took a picture of that too.  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_

 

> _I think even Perry knows I’m lonely. Scott’s planetside with Liam and Cora, and pretty much everyone else is in Prodromos working._  
>  _Meanwhile, I watch one of the crappy vids Liam keeps sending me._  
>  _Help?_  
>  _\- Sara  
>    
>  _

Two terrible action vids later, Sara played an old favorite. She’d seen _Fleet and Flotilla_ way too many times to stay awake through it. By the time the sappy end credits music blared from the screen, Sara’s neck was stiff from it’s awkward angle on the back of the couch. Perry snored beside her, curled against her hip, and she carefully checked her omnitool. Still no reply.  
  
“SAM?”  
  
“It is currently 10pm local time in Kadara Port, Pathfinder,” SAM replied.  
  
She frowned, but didn’t argue with her sassy AI. He was learning it from her after all. She sat for a moment, suddenly sullen, and finished off her lukewarm beer.  
  
“Pathfinder,” SAM ventured.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Perhaps calling Mr.  Vidal would yield more positive results than multiple unread emails?”  
  
She frowned. “Are you interfering in my love life?”  
  
“Our relationship is symbiotic, Sara,” SAM said. “I gain life experience through your experiences, therefore-”  
  
“Stop!” She shouted. “We do not need to take a ride on that particular train of thought!”  
  
“As you wish, Pathfinder,” he said. “I am only attempting to alleviate your concerns.”  
  
She sighed. “Thanks, SAM.” She thought about it a moment more, and then dialed him. She was shocked when he answered.  
  
“Ryder,” he said. It was a red flag; he never answered her calls with her last name. She tried to get a sense of where he was, but his face took up most of the image. It wasn’t well lit, wherever he was. “I’m in the middle of something,” he said. Steel lined his words, and Sara got the distinct impression that she was dealing with the Charlatan in that moment. “I’ll call you back.”  
  
She scowled. “Nice to see you’re alive, Reyes.”  
  
He sighed, and was about to say something when a voice off screen interrupted.  
  
“Ryder?” It was a feminine voice, hard and angry. Sara swore she’d heard it before. “She’s still ali-” The word broke off into a painful scream.  
  
Reyes’s eyes darted off camera, and then back to her. “I will call you back.” His mouth was hard, and discomfort crinkled at the corners of his golden eyes. “Promise.”  
  
And then he disconnected the call.


	8. The Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A couple things before we dive into this one.  
> 1.) You all are amazing individuals, and I'm so glad you all like this story so much. Your comments and kudos are life.  
> 2.) I have never written a scene like the one below before. It was really hard to do, and I hope I did it well. I really hope you all enjoy this chapter.  
> 3.) Be warned: there is torture in this chapter. I don't think the violence is gratuitous, but see above. I've never done this before. So, sorry if it's... too much.  
> 4.) To all you people who said you love Charlatan Reyes, or like his sharp edges... this one's for you.

There were preparations to be made before he could give Meritus the green light to move on their enemy. Reyes waited until the Tempest was in flight, and then he returned to Tartarus. Orders were doled out to Vex and his cell to prep for interrogations. The turian requested that his people be on the infiltration squad, and since it was their intelligence that got them the coordinates, Reyes was inclined to indulge his lieutenant.  
  
He passed communications to Lynx, with the coordinates and orders to standby. They couldn’t afford any mistakes, and he knew she would be eager to redeem herself. The navpoint was an unassuming prefab tucked into the eastern cliffs of Haarfel. It seemed unlikely to be a base of operations; it was too small-scale. Which led Meritus and Reyes to agree that it was the location of key personnel.  
  
When Vex messaged that all preparations for prolonged holding and interrogation were in place, the sun had just descended behind the mountain of Kadara Port. Reyes smiled, but there was no joy in it. It was anticipation that curved his lips into a predatory grin. He keyed a message on his omnitool as he made his way to his shuttle.  
  


_To: Lynx_  
_From: Reyes Vidal_  


 

> _Go._  
>    
> 

The flight to the Spirit’s Ledge base was blissfully short. Reyes took a moment to gather himself, shaking out his hands at his sides. His nerves jittered under his skin, and he thought briefly that this must be how Sara felt all the time without her amp. He glanced at his omnitool with a pang of guilt. She’d messaged him several times over the course of the day, but he couldn’t afford the distraction. There was no room for error, least of all from him. He resolved to call her when this was all over.  
  
A vibration at his wrist announced a new message.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Meritus Vex_  
  


 

> _Mission successful. Payload inbound._  
>    
> 

That was his cue. With a steadying breath he shoved all thoughts of Sara to the back of his mind. Along with her he stuffed Reyes Vidal away too. The smuggler, the pilot, the man that he really was, didn’t have the stomach for what came next.  
  
But the Charlatan did.  
  
Reyes entered the prefab complex a different man than he’d been in Kadara Port. If anyone were to pass him on the street now they would skitter away, like mice before the cat. His stride was purposeful, his face stern. There was no question that he was in charge of any room he entered, no doubt that he owned anything he set his sights on.  
  
Meritus appeared to greet him. His leathery skin and carapace were alternating shades of gray, and a large red clan marking criss-crossed his face.  
  
“Sir,” he greeted. His low voice vibrated with excitement. “This way.”  
  
The turian led him through the complex to a large room in the back of the compound. There were no windows, and the room was empty save for a single chair that sat in the center. The chair swam in bright white light, creating a sea of shadows in the rest of the room.  
  
Reyes turned to Meritus. “Good work.”  
  
His mandibles flared in pleasure at the praise. “It was a team effort,” he said.  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“My second, Kalla Pok,” the turian explained. “She’s the one that discovered the pattern in the data-stream that led us to Haarfel. Her partner, Wreav, accompanied the infiltration squad.”  
  
Reyes raised a dark brow. “Partner?”  
  
Vex shrugged. “They were a package deal, and Pok’s former STG.” He said it as if that made the decision for him.  
  
“How badly would losing her hinder your cell’s operations?”  
  
Meritus winced, barely. For the turian that was damn expressive. “She’s the head of my intelligence detail.” He shrugged. “I could replace her, but efficiency and accuracy would plummet.”  
  
“That good, huh?” Reyes allowed a hint of surprise to tug at his brow.  
  
“Yeah,” Meritus said. “And she comes with a damn krogan bodyguard.”  
  
“Would she want her own operation?” He had to reward the Salarian somehow.  
  
Vex considered it for a moment. “I don’t think so, but you’d be better off asking her.”  
  
On cue, heavy footfalls announced the arrival of a krogan. The door to the room slammed open, and a hulking rust-colored krogan barged in, dragging a bound and blindfolded asari behind him. A tall and slender salarian entered after them, and shut the door softly. The krogan, Wreav, Reyes assumed, dumped the asari into the chair, and made quick work of tying her to it.  
  
Reyes circled the chair on silent feet. He took in every detail of the asari captive. She was of an unremarkable build; typical height for her species, no purple mottling to her skin, no trace of any scars or freckles. Her skin was a bright and pure blue, which made the purple trickle of blood from her nose that much more noticeable. He noted an arrogant tilt to her head as she listened, no doubt trying to glean everything she could about her surroundings from the quiet, but the throbbing pulse at her jaw told him just how afraid she was.  
  
Good, he thought. She should be.  
  
A thin voice cut through the room. “I did my part,” the salarian said from her spot against the door. The krogan grunted his agreement from beside Meritus.  
  
The asari’s head snapped in the direction of Pok’s voice. “I am going to fucking kill-”  
  
Reyes nodded to Meritus, and the turian didn’t hesitate to backhand the mouthy asari. Purple flecks of blood flew from her nose, and she spat more out onto the floor.  
  
“It’s not your turn yet,” Vex said, his voice perfectly calm.  
  
Reyes eyed the asari, waiting for her to start up again, but she seemed content with their response. He turned his attention back to Pok, and was surprised to see the color drain from her green and brown dappled face.  
  
“I’ll just wait outside,” she murmured, and then excused herself.  
  
Reyes looked at Meritus, who only shrugged, then to Wreav.  
  
He grunted, hefting a shoulder in a casual display of discomfort. “She doesn’t do blood,” he said.  
  
Reyes stared a moment more, but the asari chose that moment to burst out in wet laughter.  
  
“I knew I should have cut that bitch.”  
  
Wreav darted forward fast enough that Reyes had to fight back the urge to jump away. But the krogan had eyes only for the asari, whose fringe he clenched until her head tilted back in an unnatural angle. “Lucky you didn’t, else the Charlatan would have been very disappointed,” Wreav growled.  
  
“I’m not afraid of him,” she spat.  
  
Reyes glanced at the krogan, and he released his grip on the asari. Wreav backed away until he was obscured by the shadows. Meritus took a step closer to the krogan, giving Reyes room to circle the woman before him. He was soundless, a lifetime of practice preparing him for this moment. He circled her like the prey she was, and he watched with satisfaction as her breaths sped up. He closed in on her, and then his mouth was at her ear.  
  
“You should be.”  
  
She flinched, and the Charlatan smiled. He turned back to to Wreav. “Did you find anything else?”  
  
The krogan stepped forward to provide a datapad. “Name’s Elora T’Avini. Exiled with the rest of us, then Sloane gave her the boot a few months after that. Caught her undercutting Outcasts on Oblivion sales.”  
  
Reyes tisked and shook his head. “That was very sloppy of you, Elora”  
  
“Fuck you!” She said, pulling against her ties.  
  
Reyes nodded to Meritus, and he stepped forward to slap the asari again. Reyes gave her a moment to spit and curse to herself. He pocketed the datapad to pour over later. “Wreav?” He asked, his voice smooth and honeyed. “Would you be so kind as to untie one of her hands?”  
  
“Sure thing, Boss.” He lumbered forward and did as asked.  
  
Reyes knelt before his prisoner, and nodded to Meritus. The turian removed her blindfold, and Elora blinked against the sudden brightness. “Now then,” he said. “I have been generous to you so far.” His face was a perfect mask, still and uncaring. “I have been patient with your outbursts.” He sighed as he stood. “But, I am a busy man, so the sooner you answer my questions the sooner we can all be on our way.”  
  
Wreav waited, her hand still held between his. Reyes was relieved to see that the old krogan was no stranger to this sort of work. It made things easier on him if he didn’t have to explain himself. And it was much more terrifying for the poor soul in the chair.  
  
She snorted, finally over her abrupt return to sight. “Like you’re going to let me live. I killed your precious Pathfinder,” she sneered.  
  
Reyes didn’t let his surprise show. Either she was bluffing, trying to get him to confirm or deny the information, or she really thought her trap had been a success. He ignored the voice that reminded him it nearly had been. Instead of responding to her taunt, he nodded to Wreav.  
  
The crack of the asari’s left pinky finger resounded through the room. The scream that followed twisted his stomach into knots, but when he spoke his voice was firm and unforgiving.  
  
“That is the price of speaking out of turn,” he said. “Now, what did the Pathfinder have to do with your plans?”  
  
“Fuck. You.”  
  
Snap.  
  
Reyes was ready for her scream that time, and he buried the nauseous wave it brought deep in his stomach. “One more chance, Elora,” he said. He reached a hand out to Meritus, who handed him a tube of medigel. “Just answer the question, and I’ll take the pain away.”  
  
Her head rolled back against the chair. “It’s obvious you were sweet on her.” The sneer in her voice didn’t quite make it to her face. “Cease fire from your troops? Working with the Nexus?” She made a disgusted sound. “A fucking Outpost?” She shrugged.  
  
He nodded. He knew those things would be a red flag to any who would pay attention. He squeezed out a dollop of the gel and spread it over her fifth finger with gentle hands. Her head snapped up, blue eyes wide with surprise, but Reyes didn’t speak. As the gel got to work she sighed in relief at the tingling numbness.  
  
“So, what? You hate the Initiative. You hate the Collective.” He shrugged. “There are a multitude of targets, why strike at the Pathfinder?”  
  
“Even now you can’t see past her,” she said.  
  
Crack.  
  
“Fuck!” The word was hardly discernible through her screeching.  
  
Reyes shook his head. “Elora, don’t mistake my mercy for weakness.” He stared at her until she met his gaze. “Why her?”  
  
“She’s the symbol,” she said through gritted teeth. “Take her out and the whole fucking galaxy mourns.”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s a good line,” he admitted. “Probably even a bit of truth in it, but it’s not everything.”  
  
Wreav moved to her next finger, and Elora stiffened.  
  
“Fine,” she shouted. “Fine! I knew it’d hit you where it hurt the most. A crippling blow we could take advantage of.”  
  
He gave her a smile, even though everything within him wanted to end this woman. “Good girl,” he cooed and administered more medigel to her ring finger. He let her breathe a moment, pulling harsh breaths through her nose. The trickle of blood on her lip had dried, and it pulled the memory of Sara broken and bleeding in the back of the Nomad to the front of his mind.  
  
His composure wavered for a moment, the impotent rage that had simmered in his blood for two weeks quickly returning to its boiling point. He replaced the cap on the medigel and tossed to tube aside. He waved for Meritus to step forward. The turian did as requested, and removed his gloves to reveal the sharp talons at the end of each finger. Reyes stood and backed away from the asari, and the krogan followed his example.  
  
“Where’s your base of operations?” He asked from the edge of the shadows.  
  
She stared at him for a moment, weighing how much pain that information was worth to her. Her silence proved that she chose poorly.  
  
The Charlatan nodded, and Meritus dug a single talon into the fleshy muscle at the top of her shoulder. Her scream hit a new pitch as the sharp claw punctured her skin. The purple blood bubbled up around the turian’s finger, but instead of nausea Reyes felt a grim satisfaction.  
  
“Where is it, Elora?”  
  
She hissed as Vex applied pressure. “Kurinth’s Valley,” she said finally. She cried out as the talon ripped from her shoulder. For a moment Reyes considered retrieving the medigel, but he had no interest in mitigating this woman’s suffering. She wanted to topple everything he’d built, and she wanted to do it in the way that would hurt him the most. Instead he moved into the shadows, and Meritus followed him as Wreav resumed his place at her side, broken hand cradled in his.  
  
“Get your team to confirm the base’s location,” he murmured to Vex.  
  
Meritus didn’t hesitate, issuing the order via his omnitool right then. They turned back to the asari, Reyes formulating his next question when his omnitool vibrated on his wrist. He glanced down and saw it was Sara calling. Cold fear slithered up his spine. What if there was something wrong? What if she needed him, and he'd ignored all her messages?  
  
“Shit,” he whispered, then looked up to the room. “Not a word,” he threatened them all, and then he turned his back to them and answered the Pathfinder’s call. “Ryder,” he said as her face came into view on the screen. That should alert her that something was wrong. “I’m in the middle of something.” Concern furrowed her brow at his terse use of her surname, but she otherwise looked whole and safe. “I’ll call you back,” he said. It was a dismissal, and he hated using it on her.  
  
She bristled at his tone. “Nice to see you’re alive, Reyes.”  
  
He sighed. Of course she would choose this moment to be stubborn.  
  
“Ryder?” Elora said from behind him, her angry voice crackling through the quiet room. “She’s still ali-” The word curdled into a scream as Wreav broke her index finger.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder, but his eyes returned to the screen in time to see Sara’s blue eyes widen in understanding. “I will call you back,” he said, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from pulling down. He never wanted her to see this side of him, the part of him that thrived in the shadows. “Promise.” Before she could ask any questions he disconnected the call.  
  
He turned to the asari still writhing in the chair at the center of the room and icy anger pulsed along his veins as he approached her. “I tried mercy,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I offered relief.” He shook his head in disappointment. “But you just complicated my life even more than you set out to.” He crouched before her and pulled the knife from its sheath in his boot. He had no intention of using it; he had Vex and Wreav for the dirty work. But she didn’t know that.  
  
“And now I am out of patience.”  
  
  


Reyes pushed open the door to his small apartment in the Port. He was exhausted and felt filthy. He removed his holster and kicked off his boots. His flight suit followed after that, the clothing winding a trail to the minuscule shower at the back of his room. He turned on the water and waited for it to steam up the bathroom. As he stepped in, despite the sting of the heat, he was convinced it could never get hot enough to wash off the night’s events.  
  
Elora had been determined to keep her secrets. As their methods intensified she dropped hints and half-truths, often creating more questions than she did answers. She was an angry woman, mostly unhinged in her placement of rage. For someone so clever, so capable, she was incredibly short-sighted, debilitated by her own fury and over-developed sense of self. She’d said a lot of terrible things. Things she threatened to do to Sara if he allowed her to live, completely oblivious that her venomous wrath ensured that he would do no such thing.  
  
He stood under the scalding water, not to wash Elora’s words from his skin, but in an effort to cleanse his soul of the satisfaction he’d felt in ordering her destruction. She was rabid, a threat not only to the Collective and the Pathfinder, but to everything they’d worked so hard to build. He knew that. His logical side clung to it, like his brothers’ clung to his legs from under his abuela’s bed.  
  
And if that were his only motivation for torturing the asari, for breaking her until she spewed knowledge from her bloody lips, then he might be able to shake the quaking nausea that roiled in his guts. But it wasn’t. More than anything, his motivation was revenge. Retribution for daring to take from him the one thing he cherished above all else. It had become personal, and for the first time he couldn’t convince himself that it was wrong. If the Pathfinder was his Santa Sarita, his beacon of light and hope, then he was her avenger cloistered in shadows, defending her name.  
  
He stood, forearms against the shower wall, head bowed to let the water cascade down his back, and tried to think of what he could possibly say to her when he called. Because he was going to call her. He’d promised. His mind spun until the water went cold. He washed quickly, oblivious to the chill, and stepped out to confront his fate.  
  
He sat at the edge of his bed, his hair tousled from the towel that was now wrapped around his hips, and dialed her. He took a deep breath, prepping to say… something. He still wasn’t sure what.  
  
“Reyes,” she answered, her voice hard.  
  
He’d half expected her to be asleep, but it was obvious to see that she hadn’t been able to after their short talk hours ago.  
  
“Sara,” he said. He was so tired suddenly, and this conversation was the last thing he wanted to do.  
  
“What the fuck was that?” She asked, her anger bubbling to the surface as usual.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “That was the leader of the group that compromised Draullir.” He eyed her carefully. “The people who set the trap for you on Voeld.”  
  
Sara’s mouth gaped, and then she snapped it shut as her mind spun to put the pieces together. “Who was she?”  
  
He didn’t miss her use of the past tense. His clever Princesa. “Elora T’Avini. Exile from the Nexus, and enemy of anyone who didn’t fall at her feet.”  
  
Sara frowned, and he thought she might have taken offense at his harsh words. “I met her,” she said after a moment.  
  
“Really?” He couldn’t keep his brows from lifting. “When?”  
  
“Before the duel. She was…” she searched for a word, “rude. And angry.”  
  
Thinking of Elora’s less endearing personality traits was wearisome. “That she was,” he said.  
  
They didn’t speak for a long while, and fear seeped into his bones.  
  
“Was it worth it?” She asked finally, her voice so soft he almost missed the question.  
  
He felt certain that this was a trap. Say yes, and he’d be cruel and brutal. Ruthless; no better than Sloane. Say no, and he’d simply be a monster. But, he was trying to be honest with her. He really was. “Yes,” he whispered. Even to his own ears the answer sounded fragile.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Why what?” He asked, confused.  
  
“Why was it worth it?” She looked at him as if she could climb into his soul from light years away.  
  
He frowned, considering her question. “Because she was a threat.”  
  
“To the Collective?”  
  
“Yes,” he answered. “But not just that.” He shook his head. “She was a threat to Ditaeon, to what we built.” He caught her eyes and all the night’s damage poured out of him. “She was a threat to you.” His voice broke at the end, and he had to look away. She deserved to see him at his worst, to see the darkest, weakest parts of him. But still he was too proud, too much the coward to show her.  
  
She was silent as he fought with his own frayed edges, with his doubts and fears. With his pride. When he faced her again, her jaw was unclenched, and the corners of her eyes had softened. But there was something conflicted in her eyes, uncertainty in the soft curve of her mouth. Her face was guarded against him, and Reyes would trade all of Kadara to be with her just then. His words always seemed to fall short, but when they were together he could show her all the things he meant, everything he felt.  
  
He saw the moment that she couldn’t handle the tension anymore. The moisture pooled at the edges of her eyes, igniting the green in her blue irises until they rivaled the pools in the badlands. It twisted a blade in his heart, as sure as Meritus’s talon had twisted in Elora’s shoulder.  
  
“I,” she started, but her raspy voice faltered. She took a breath, and tried again. “I have to think about this.”  
  
He nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. But neither of them seemed capable of ending the call. Panic closed in on him then, as he realized that, depending on her decisions, he might not get the chance to tell her ever again. “Sara,” he said, desperation in his voice.  
  
She looked up at him, hopeful, but still so uncertain.  
  
“I,” he paused. It was there, right on the tip of his tongue, brimming from the bruised edges of his heart. But he still couldn’t say it, because it would condemn her to him, to his darkness. “I’m sorry,” he finished, looking away in shame.  
  
Silence reigned for a long minute. When she spoke, her voice shook, and it sent ripples of loathing through him. “Goodnight, Reyes.”  
  
“Goodnight, Sarita,” he said. But she’d already ended the call.

 

 


	9. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The response on the last chapter was amazing! You all so wonderful! I hope you enjoy this one. We're getting close to the end...

Sara ended the call because she knew if she listened to his voice tell her goodnight, thinking it might be the last time, it would break her. He’d looked awful. Worn and somehow diminished, like some light in him had flickered out since she’d seen him two days ago. And, she admitted, he’d looked wonderful. He was fresh from the shower, his hair just starting to dry into its natural waves, his skin bright and fresh from the hot water. The whole call was so conflicting, that she wasn’t lying when she’d said she needed to think about things.  
  
But, she might as well have let him say goodnight, because she cried herself to sleep anyway.  
  
It wasn’t that he’d ordered the woman killed. Even before taking on the role of the Pathfinder, killing wasn’t something Sara could be judgmental about. She’d been a peacekeeper for archaeologists in the Traverse. And while the title “Peacekeeper” sounded nice, it really meant she protected scientists from pirates and slavers. She’d had a lot of blood on her hands long before she came to Andromeda.  
  
And, deep down, she knew that the torture wasn’t the issue either. She’d found the Collective’s torture room in Spirit’s Ledge. She saw the beatings in the Draullir prison cells. The Charlatan was better than Sloane, but only if you weren’t his enemy. Sara knew all of that, and she knew there were steep prices to be paid to keep Kadara functioning.  
  
But, her stomach knotted every time her mind replayed Elora’s voice breaking into that scream. Her heart broke when she closed her eyes and saw Reyes behind them, sitting on his bed, beaten down and defeated by what he’d done. But more than any of that, she felt the grip of fear in her lungs when she remembered his voice when she’d called him. Such a simple phrase, ‘I’ll call you back’. But, it hadn’t been Reyes. There was no warmth or hope in his eyes or voice. No throaty chuckle just waiting to be loosed on the world. Instead, he’d been sharp and impassive, a stranger. The man from the cave all those months ago.  
  
The Charlatan.  
  
She loved Reyes, she knew that without any doubt or hesitation. But, she’d been able to separate him from his alter-ego, been able to convince herself that the Charlatan was just the unseen force behind the Collective. That meant that he didn’t participate, just waded through the information and doled out orders. That’s what he’d led her to believe, that’s what all her own explorations in Collective bases had told her. But, he’d been in that room with Elora, hard and unfeeling as someone used pain to pull information from her.  
  
What if she was the reason he was there in person? Was she part of the reason he was willing to do such a terrible thing? And if so, shouldn’t she be more upset about it? Her moral code had always been clear to her, but Reyes presented a newfound gray area, and instead of trying to pin it down and figure it out, Sara found that she liked his world. It was so much more interesting than the one she’d drawn in stark lines of black and white.  
  
And suddenly Sara was confronted with the reality of who Reyes was, who he could be when it was required of him. And who she could become when he was involved. She’d told him that she understood him, that she knew he’d always have secrets, and his relief at her words and acceptance still made her melt. But now she wasn’t so sure she could be all right with what he did in the shadows.  
  
So she cried, until her eyes were swollen and sore, until the tears dried into salty tracks on her face. Until she fell asleep, fully clothed and clutching her pillow like it might give her the answers she so desperately needed.  
  


A hand on her shoulder startled her awake. She blinked up into familiar blue eyes, and then the aroma of coffee reached her nose and she sighed.  
  
“You missed breakfast,” Scott said, handing her the Initiative standard mug. He glanced over her once and frowned. “You look like shit.”  
  
She grunted, but sat up and took a tentative sip of the steaming liquid.  
  
He sat beside her on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
She shook her head, and pulled the edge of her blanket over her shoulders. They sat, Sara sipping her coffee while Scott watched her. She wasn’t sure how to talk about this with her brother. She knew that Scott was much less emotional than her when it came to work. He was the strategist, the tactician, and he could always make the ends justify the means.  
  
But she still worried that her brother would think less of Reyes if he knew about last night. And despite all her uncertainty, she knew she didn’t want that.  
  
“When Mom told us to fall in love,” she started. “Do you think she knew it would be this hard?”  
  
Scott grimaced. “She was married to Dad, so yeah.”  
  
“A little warning would have been nice,” she groused.  
  
“Mom wanted us to live,” he said, emphasizing the last word. “Giving us all the hints would defeat the purpose.”  
  
Sara nodded, unsure what else to say.  
  
“But,” Scott said after a moment. “She did talk to me about love once, when she was in the hospital.”  
  
“What?” Sara didn’t remember that conversation, and she hadn’t left their mother’s bedside for months.  
  
“You were asleep,” he said, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Dad was off being Dad somewhere, still hunting for anything that might save her.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Anyway, I asked her why she stayed with Dad.” He glanced at Sara. “The two of you had just gotten into it about how he was never around and now he’d run out of time-”  
  
“I remember,” she interrupted. It wasn’t her proudest moment, and she could do without dragging up more unpleasant memories at the moment.  
  
“Well, she told me something that I haven’t been able to shake,” he said. “She looked at me, Sara, and I swear to God there was pity in her eyes.”  
  
“For you?”  
  
“Yeah, and a little for Dad too, I think.”  
  
Sara frowned. “What’d she say?”  
  
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. “She said that falling in love is the easy part. ‘Falling in love just happens’, she said. ‘Natural and right as can be.’” He smiled, his eyes distant as he got lost in the memory. “’But staying in love is a choice’. That’s what she said.” He shook his head. “She said she woke up every day, saw Dad for who he was, faults and all, and made the choice to love him anyway.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I asked her that too,” he said. “She said, ‘because that’s what you do when you love someone. It isn’t easy, and some days you can’t, but if the day ever comes when you won’t, it’s over.’”  
  
Her brow furrowed. “Am I supposed to understand that?”  
  
Scott shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve thought about it for years, and the closest I can figure is that if you ever wake up one day and you just don’t care enough to try, then it’s done.”  
  
She dropped her head into one hand.  
  
“I’m sorry if this doesn’t help,” he said. “I don’t know what happened, but I know that Reyes cares about you.”  
  
“I know,” she mumbled into her hand.  
  
“Did he do something to hurt you?” Scott asked quietly.  
  
“No.” She shook her head. “I’d be a lot less conflicted about it if he had.” That was the truth. If he'd betrayed her, or said something cruel, her decision would be made. Instead he'd been honest and open with her. He showed her who he really was, and it was up to her what to do with that.  
  
“But you won’t tell me what he did?”  
  
She took a deep breath. “Charlatan stuff,” she said.  
  
Scott blinked, and she saw understanding flash in his eyes.  
  
She shoved him. “You knew!”  
  
“I knew he was searching,” he said, standing. “I didn’t know he found them.”  
  
“Did you know what he planned?”  
  
Scott glanced at her, and it was all the proof she needed.  
  
“I can’t believe you’d keep this from me!” She stood and slammed the mug down on the bedside table.  
  
“He’s not wrong, Sara.”  
  
She gaped at him. “How can you say that? He tortured someone!”  
  
“And we kill people we don’t agree with,” Scott shrugged. He looked so much like their father in that moment that she wanted to punch him. “If I were in his position, with power and creds, no Initiative breathing down my neck, and someone had hurt you or Gil? Yeah, I’d have done it too.”  
  
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”  
  
“Why?” He asked. “It’s the truth, and that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He glared at her. “For him to tell you the truth? Did he even try and excuse it, to talk his way out of it?”  
  
That silenced the retort on her tongue. She thought about it, pouring over their conversation last night, seeing his weary face, eyes swimming in shame and doubt whenever they met hers. “No,” she whispered finally. “No. He told me the truth, he didn’t sugarcoat anything or try and play it off.”  
  
Scott considered her for a moment. “You know better than me how costly honesty is to him.” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Seems to me he’s already made his choice. Now you have to make yours.” He shot her a sad smile, the barest tilt at the corner of his mouth, and then left the room.  
  


She hated uncertainty. It crippled her just as sure as the shattered amp had thrown her biotics offline. Sara was an intuitive person, she ran on instinct and made her decisions quickly. So, when faced with a big decision that demanded her brain join her heart and gut at the discussion table, she felt paralyzed. She could do nothing else until the problem was resolved, and this problem, this choice was a big one.  
  
On the third day, he reached out to her.  
  


_To: Sara Ryder_  
_From: Reyes Vidal  
  
  
_

 

> _Are you okay?  
>    
>    
>    
>  _

That was it. No greeting, no cheesy signature that promised he would dream of her or think about her, not even his name at the end. She could practically feel the doubt pouring out of him in those three words. She knew that he’d be worried about rushing her, or intruding on her where he wasn’t wanted. But he just wanted to know where he stood. If only she could tell him.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  
  


 

> _I don’t know._  
>  _… are you okay?_  
>    
> 

Sara hated this. Their conversations were never so stilted. Even when he’d been nothing more than Shena to her they’d talked more easily than they did now. But now there was so much more on the line for both of them.  
  


 

> _To: Sara Ryder_  
>  _From: Reyes Vidal_  
>    
> 
> 
> _I’m managing. Better now, though._  
>  _I’m here when you’re ready to talk._  
>    
> 

Sara woke up on the fifth morning after their call and, after days of anxious pacing and hypothetical conversations, there was a sudden calm in her mind. Her doubts had vanished, as if her mind had worked out the puzzle in her sleep. She was ready, her decision made.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  
  


 

> _Can I call you?_  
>    
>    
> 

She paced her room while she waited for his reply. Her hands shook, and she flexed them in an effort to release the tension. Her biotics thrummed under her skin, the stress of the week doing nothing to help the energy settle. She really needed an amp, and soon. Her omnitool vibrated at her wrist, and she was surprised to see he was calling.  
  
“Reyes,” she answered.  
  
“Sara,” he said. Her name on his lips settled her nerves a little.  
  
“Where are you?” She asked. It was a safe enough way to start this conversation.  
  
“My place.” The tension in his voice pulled at her own, comforting and worrisome in waves.  
  
“Reyes,” she said again. His name just felt right on her lips, like a gift of water in the desert. “I’m sorry.”  
  
He stared at her, his golden eyes wide. “For what?”  
  
“For freaking out on you,” she sighed, sitting at the foot of her bed. “For disappearing.” She shook her head. “That wasn’t fair.”  
  
He stared a little longer then ran his right hand through his hair.  
  
“You’re still wearing my ring,” she smiled. She expected him to make a joke, or to chuckle, but his hazel eyes were serious when they found hers.  
  
“I promised I’d never let it out of my sight.” As if there could never be any doubt that he would make good on that promise. “There’s no need to apologize,” he said, returning to the matter at hand. “ _I_ should apologize.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because,” he paused and took a steadying breath. “I never wanted you to see that side of me, of who I have to be.” His voice was raw. “There are pieces of me I’m not proud of, but they’re mine all the same.”  
  
She was silent for a moment. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, and she really needed him to look at her, so he could see that her next words were true. “Reyes,” she called to him, her voice soft. “Look at me.”  
  
He did, and it put a stutter in her heart. The perfect slope of his nose over his full lips, currently pulled down into a harsh frown, coupled with his bright eyes did unfair things to her pulse. This man would be the death of her, she was certain. How could he focus only on the bad when he could make her feel so good just by looking at her?  
  
“I want to see those pieces. I want to see all the pieces, because they’re yours.” It was her proclamation. She’d made her choice.  
  
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said. “I’m not a good man, Sara”  
  
“But, you’re better when you’re with me, right?” He’d said it to her, ages ago it felt now. He nodded and she smiled at him. “I’m better when I’m with you too.”  
  
He chuckled, and the sound lifted her spirits. “You’re always good,” he teased.  
  
“Do I need to point out which of us has been arrested?”  
  
He rolled his eyes at her. “You were sixteen.”  
  
“Still counts.” She sighed. “I’m not perfect, Reyes. I have my jagged pieces too.” She expected him to argue, or ask for an example, but he didn’t. Maybe he already knew all her hangups and anxiety, or maybe he just appreciated that she wasn’t ready to talk about all of them just yet.  
  
His smile faltered. “I have to tell you something.”  
  
“Okay,” she said after a moment, bracing herself for some new secret.  
  
“I have never personally inflicted pain on someone in order to get information,” he said it like a confession. The words rushed from him. “But I have ordered it done.” He looked away, and then back again. “I just wanted you to know. My hands aren’t clean, but they aren’t _that_ bloody either.”  
  
She watched him for a moment, and he squirmed under her gaze. “Thank you,” she said.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For being honest with me about all of this.”  
  
He nodded. “I’m trying, Sara” He smiled. “As impossible as this is, I want it to work.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I want you.”  
  
She grinned, “I want you too.”  
  
He let out a shaky breath, but his smirk had returned. “Then, you should come back to Kadara.”  
  
She laughed. “Already? I don’t think Scott can make up an excuse so soon.”  
  
He shook his head. “Just you,” he said. “And me, for three days.”  
  
“What’re you planning?”  
  
He grinned, and it sent a jolt through her, like the electricity of life returning to her on the Archon’s ship.  
  
“Nothing too fancy,” he promised. “But I do have a surprise for you.”  
  
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to convince Scott to drop me off.” She smiled at him.  
  
“I promise it will be worth your while,” he said. He pitched his voice low, and it crawled up her spine, dripping heat along her nerves.  
  
She groaned. “How can I miss you this much already?”  
  
“Trust me,” he said. “The feeling is mutual. Seven days is a long time.” The heat in his gaze was proof enough.  
  
She watched him, content just to let her eyes wander over his face, taking in the soft planes of his cheekbones, and the delicate brush of his dark brows. She reclined back onto one hand, her expression clouding. “Are we okay?” She asked after a moment.  
  
He looked at her, as if he could find the answer in her face. “That depends,” he said. “Are you okay?”  
  
She thought about it; she wanted to give him the honest answer. “I think so.” She ran a hand through her hair. “It wasn’t the torture that bothered me, not really.”  
  
His brow pulled down over his eyes. “What then?”  
  
She shook her head. “It was just, shocking, seeing you there in the moment.” She sighed. “I don’t know, I guess I’d managed to separate you from the Charlatan, and seeing you there, hearing her scream…” She shrugged. “It was just a very sudden reminder that you’re more than who you are when you’re with me.”  
  
He watched her for a moment, his expression carefully blank. His eyes had lost some of their light, and the corners of his mouth pulled down ever so slightly.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to hurt you or make you worry. I just want you to understand.”  
  
“How?” He asked.  
  
“How what?”  
  
“How are you okay with this?” His voice was quiet, so unsure. The vulnerable side of Reyes that she so rarely saw.  
  
“I wasn’t, for five days,” she reminded him.  
  
“What changed your mind?” He looked back at her and the hope and longing there struck her like a concussive shot.  
  
“Well,” she said. “I did a lot of thinking. About you, about me, about the Collective, about Ditaeon and the Port. And about us.” She smiled at him. “There’s a lot of dark in you, Reyes, but when I’m with you all I see is light. All I feel is light.” She looked down, licking her lips. “And I thought about what it would feel like if I knew the next time I came to Kadara Port I couldn’t look forward to seeing you. I couldn’t deal with that.” The sudden tremor in her voice betrayed her.  
  
“Sarita,” he said, pulling her gaze back up to his. “Come to Kadara.” It was a plea. “I need to feel you, even if just for a few days.” His eyes searched her face, and the desperation there tugged at her heart.  
  
She nodded, and cleared her throat. “I’ll talk to Scott and see what our schedule is. I’ll email you with a timeline later?”  
  
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she said with a fragile smile. A week apart and she already dreaded saying goodbye.  
  
“Are you going to end the call?” He asked after a moment, a playful smirk back on his lips.  
  
“You go ahead,” she said.  
  
He rolled his eyes, but she could see he didn’t want to hang up either. “Go, talk to your brother. I’ll talk to you soon.”  
  
“Promise?”  
  
“Promise.”  
  
“Fine,” she complained.  
  
“Goodbye, Princesa,” he said. The joking quality in his voice from seconds ago was gone.  
  
“Goodbye, Reyes.” She ended the call before the words could hang between them for too long, and then ran to find Scott.  
  
Of course he was in engineering, and of course he and Gil teased her for her sudden desire to go to Kadara. In the end they agreed that both Havarl and Meridian needed a visit before they could reasonably go back to Govorkam. Not ideal, but Sara would take it.  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_  
_From: Sara Ryder_  
  


 

> _Two weeks. That’s the best we could do. Trust me, I wish it were sooner._  
>  _I’ll see you then?_  
>  _\- Sara_  
>    
> 

He answered almost immediately, and she grinned, imagining him pacing his apartment, waiting for her message. 

>   
> _To: Sara Ryder_  
>  _From: Reyes Vidal_  
>    
>    
>    
>  _On the off chance I survive that long without you, meet me at Kralla’s. Pack light._  
>  _I’m hoping we can avoid trouble for three days, but our track record isn’t great. Better bring armor._  
>  _I’ll handle the rest._  
>  _Slowly dying of anticipation,_  
>  _Reyes_  
>    
> 

Sara laughed at his dramatic message, but couldn’t help the pique of curiosity. Where was he taking her that she might need her armor? She’d imagined three days holed up in his apartment,but apparently the Charlatan had something more in store for her.  
  
Suddenly the agreed upon two weeks felt like light years, and Sara wondered if she could convince Lexi to let her go back into cryo for such a short duration. But, instead of potentially incurring the doctor’s wrath, she decided she’d steal Kosta’s entire vid collection. Something good was bound to show up eventually.


	10. The Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh man. You folks are just the best. Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and in one case, artwork! Seriously, blacksheep33512 did an awesome panel of a scene from the last chapter, and my mind is blown. Check it out here: http://blacksheep33512.tumblr.com/post/160946508939/to-himluv-thank-you-for-santa-sarita
> 
> And, since there's been a lot of angst these last few chapters, I thought you'd enjoy some well-deserved fluff and smut!

Even though it sounded like an eternity, Reyes’ two weeks flew by. The information they’d retrieved from Elora may have been good at one time, but even as quickly as Meritus had sent his agents all they found in Kurinth’s Valley was an abandoned base. But, its occupants moved in a hurry and there was a lot of intelligence left behind. After two weeks of sifting through datapads and dissecting data to send down the ranks, Reyes was confident that it was just a matter of time before the group was wiped out and he could breathe easier again.  
  
In addition to his workload for the Collective, Reyes filled his time with preparations for Sara’s visit. There were favors to be called in, drops to be made and picked up. Luxuries were limited on Kadara, hell they were limited in Andromeda, but it was amazing what people brought with them from the Milky Way. Getting them to part with their treasures could be difficult, but everyone had a price. And if they didn’t, well, he was a criminal.  
  
He was in his apartment, packing a small bag, when he got the message from Keema.  
  
  


_To: Reyes Vidal_   
_From: Keema Dohrgun_   
  
  


> _Tempest has been cleared to dock. As promised, there will be no interruptions. The Port will still be here when you return._   
>  _Have fun._   
>    
>  _\- K_   
>    
>    
> 

  
Reyes rolled his eyes at Keema’s meddling. She was far too interested in his love life, even if it was in his best interest. But, he was also grateful to her; she often convinced him to take time for himself, and he knew he could count on her to keep Kadara Port functioning in his absence.   
  
He grabbed the box off his bedside table, careful not to tear the delicate wrapping or to damage the bow attached to the top, and placed it in the bag. He grinned with excitement. He’d exhausted a lot of resources to get that present, and he couldn’t wait to watch the Pathfinder open it.  
  
Glancing around the room, he made sure he had everything. Gift? In the bag. Bag? Already slung over his shoulder. Knife? In its customary place in his right boot. Gun? The hard metal of his pistol pressed against his lower back, as much a comfort as it was uncomfortable. He turned off the lights, and stepped out into the bright mid-afternoon sun.  
  
Perhaps it was just his own excitement clouding his judgment, but the Port seemed livelier than usual. As he wound his way through the salvaged metal streets that climbed like branches from the angaran port, he took in the sights of people shopping and talking. Every day it seemed that Kadara was less and less an exile camp and more and more a city. He smiled at the idea that none of these people, enjoying the day’s sun and the relative peace in the Port, knew he was the one to thank for their safety and newfound peace of mind.  
  
Yes, there were good reasons the Charlatan operated in the shadows, but the occasional venture out into the daylight had its rewards. And today, that reward was Sara Ryder. He stepped out into the market just in time to catch a glimpse of her walking into Kralla’s Song.  
  
Her hair had grown just long enough for a short ponytail, and she’d shaved the underside to match where Lexi had to shave the hair away to work on her amplifier port. Coupled with the earrings dangling from her multiple ear piercings it lent the Pathfinder an edginess she didn’t have before. She wore jeans and her black and aqua leather jacket, with the matching aqua scarf Vetra had “found” for her. He wondered if she wore it all the time, or if she knew he’d had a hand in its procurement and so had donned it for their getaway.   
  
He waited a moment to let her settle in and start to look for him. When he entered the bar and made his way down the stairs he found Ryder leaning on the railing of the precarious balcony, her bag at her feet. She had a drink in her hand, and the warm breeze played with her ponytail. Reyes took a mental image of her, relaxed and at ease in what was one of the most unsavory bars in all of Heleus. He chuckled to himself; she was the queen, and she knew it.  
  
“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” he said as he approached her. He distinctly heard Umi’s disgusted grunt, but it only broadened his fox’s grin.   
  
Sara spun, and rolled her eyes at him as she leaned back into the railing. “Are you going to do that every time we meet somewhere?”  
  
He stepped closer, encroaching on her personal space. He knew public displays of affection pushed her boundaries, and he suddenly had an intense desire to test them. He put an arm on either side of her, resting his weight on the railing.  
  
“That depends,” he said, her palm against his chest. His mouth dipped to her ear. “Are you ever going to stop enjoying it?” Her hand clenched his shirt, and he felt a shiver run through her.  
  
Another disgusted sound from the bar. “Don’t make me kick you out,” Umi threatened.  
  
Reyes grinned and took Sara’s hand. “We were just leaving,” he said, never taking his eyes off the Pathfinder. She downed her drink and returned her glass to the bar while he slung her bag over his other shoulder. He was surprised at how heavy it was.  “Did I forget to say ‘pack light’?” He teased as they broke out into the sunshine.  
  
“You also said ‘bring armor’,” she pointed out.  
  
He chuckled. “Ah, yes. You know me, ever the contradiction.” He glanced back and caught her looking him up and down. “See something you like?” He called back to her as they approached the docks.  
  
Her laughter chimed through the din of the busy Port. “I was just thinking that I could get used to valet service.”  
  
His own laugh belted from him. He hadn’t expected that. “My true calling; bellhop.”  
  
She hummed as they took the lift to his shuttle pad, giving him another appreciative glance. “You’d definitely earn a tip from me.” Hunger darkened her blue eyes, looking less like Kadara’s pools, and more like its dusky twilight skies. That look on her face was too much.  
  
He dropped both bags, her armor crashing against the lift floor, and pressed her body against the wall with his own. She let out a surprised huff, and then a pleased whimper as his mouth found hers. He snaked a hand up and tugged on her ponytail, and she gasped as her head fell back to expose the skin of her throat.  
  
“Three weeks is too much,” he breathed against her skin.  
  
“God,” she panted. “Way too much.” Her hands clawed at his back, and a leg had come up to cling at his hip. They both groaned as the lift slowed to a halt, and they separated. Reyes picked up both bags again and led the way to his shuttle.  
  
  
  


The flight to Varren’s Scalp was short, though it felt like forever with Sara sitting on his lap, running her fingers from his hairline to his chest, like she was tracing a work of art. When her attentions manifested in a bulge against her thigh, she smirked at him with those hungry eyes.  
  
When he leaned forward and engaged landing protocols, she leaned forward too, gazing out the windshield. “Where are we?” She asked.  
  
“Varren’s Scalp,” he replied.  
  
She turned to shoot him a glare.  
  
“Oh,” he smirked. “Was that not what you meant?”  
  
She returned her attention to their surroundings. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to distinguish this rocky outcropping from the thousands of others that made up Kadara’s surface. But, this one had a small building jutting off of it, which he happened to know had a fantastic view.   
  
“It’s a surprise, Princesa,” he reminded her.  
  
“Ugh,” she plopped back into his lap. “I hate surprises,” she said, but the smile she fought to hide said otherwise.  
  
The shuttle landed, jolting them slightly. He powered it down and prepared to stand, but Sara caught his face in her hands, stopping him.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. Her blue eyes shone down on him, full of so many emotions he didn’t deserve. They’d certainly never been directed at him before. Awe, desire, gratitude, and love poured down on him as renewing as the first rain in the desert. She kissed him with gentle lips.  
  
“For what?” He asked after they broke apart.   
  
She shrugged. “For whatever it is you have planned.”   
  
“You don’t even know what it is,” he chuckled.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” she promised. “I have a feeling I’m going to love it.”  
  
He pressed his lips to hers, intending it to be chaste, but she deepened the kiss, and soon his tongue had tangled with hers, leaving them both breathless.  
  
“Let’s go find out, shall we?”  
  
With a bag on each shoulder, and her hand in his he led her to the small prefab. Their eager footfalls clanged against the metal walkway. As they approached the door he tugged her in front of him, and covered her eyes with one hand.  
  
She laughed, musical and breathless. The sound did strange things to his heart, and knowing that he was the cause of her joy brought a honey-sweet warmth to his soul. The door hissed open and he guided her into the room.  
  
“Can I look yet?” She asked, mirth bubbling in her voice.   
  
“Not yet,” he said. He dropped the bags just inside the door and pulled his pistol from his back to set it on the entry table. “Stay there,” he told her. “And don’t look!”  
  
She raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not looking!”  
  
Reyes moved around the room, ensuring that not a single piece was out of place. He spun in place, eyeing the room carefully, and once he was certain he went back to her. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pressed a kiss just behind her ear and then rested his chin on her shoulder.  
  
“Okay,” he said. “You can look.”  
  
She gasped, and her whole body froze in his arms as she took in the room. Directly to the right was a small kitchen, a vase of Heleus flowers on the counter, as well as a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice delivered from Voeld. Well, he thought, champagne was being generous, but it was the closest anyone had made since they’d arrived in Andromeda. Beyond the kitchen was a sunken living room. The furniture was Initiative standard chairs and a sofa, but the bright purple and aqua rug had been purchased on Aya. Further past that was a bed to rival the one on the Tempest, large and luxurious with more matching angaran textiles.   
  
But what really took the breath away was the view. The back wall was sheer glass, which he’d paid handily for. It was private, preventing a view from the outside, but from the inside the view looked out over Haarfel, and as far as Kurinth’s Valley when the sun was high enough. Just now, as the sun approached the horizon, the valley was bathed in inky blue shadows.  
  
“Reyes,” she breathed, stepping forward. “How did you…?” She turned to him, the wonder on her face exactly what he’d hoped for when he first found the land. That’d been months ago, after her visit to his room after her ordeal on the Archon’s ship. He knew after that night that she deserved more than his shitty apartment in the Port. So, he’d built them an oasis in the middle of the Badlands.  
  
“Do you like it?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.  
  
“Like it?” She returned to his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. “I don’t ever want to leave!”  
  
He chuckled, “that’s what I was going for.” He was going to tease her further, but Sara had other plans.  
  
She pulled his face down to hers and her lips found his. It started slow, with a touch of sweetness, but soon her tongue was demanding entrance at his bottom lip. Reyes was more than happy to oblige her. Her hands ran over his body, as hungry as her lips, and he backed her further into the room. As his hands reached for the lapels of her leather jacket, she shrugged out of it and let it fall on the floor. His coat went next, followed by his boots.  
  
As they reached the bed she filled his senses. The heat of her tongue as it danced with his, the minty sweetness of her breath, and the smell of her mint shampoo mingled with the subtle musk of her natural scent all mixed together to light a fire in his blood. They stood at the foot of the bed, and she made no arguments as his hands pulled at the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms and the garment along with her scarf disappeared somewhere in the room. He didn’t care where as long as they were no where near her. She did the same to his shirt, and then their skin was reunited.  
  
Her pale skin contrasted with his own, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He took a step back to take her in, the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts in her black bra, the ridge of her collarbone and the fluttering pulse point in her throat. Just the sight of her, so close, sent a throbbing pulse deep within him. Reyes was no stranger to beautiful women, or men, but none of his lovers had ever bewitched him so thoroughly.  
  
She decided she was tired of waiting for him to come back to her, so she kicked off her boots and slid her jeans down her legs.  
  
He groaned as she straightened up; of course she was wearing matching black panties. He followed her example, ridding himself of his own pants, and then they collided.  
They fell back onto the bed, but there was no time for giddy laughter now; their mouths were otherwise occupied. While he trailed kisses down her neck, a hand snuck under her to unclasp her bra. He removed the offending material, as attractive as it was, and took a nipple between his lips.  
  
The resulting cry from her throat only stoked the flames in his blood higher. His tongue set to work at the sensitive flesh, and he was rewarded with a roll of her hips against his. Her hands gripped his hair, long fingers tangled in it, begging his mouth never to part from her skin. He would do his damnedest to grant that wish over the next few days.  
His fingers took over when his mouth blazed a trail down from her breast along her abdomen. His teeth dug against the bone at the point of her rib cage experimentally, and the jolt that shook her pulled a groan from him.  
  
“Fuck,” she moaned, her back arching to bring her body up against his.  
  
He continued along his path, his lips, tongue, and teeth working at her skin to keep a litany of mindless words tumbling from her perfect lips. Meanwhile, intrepid fingers pulled at the band of her underwear, tugging them down and away from her. And when his tongue found the earthy heat of her core, her body spasmed up around him. With gentle force he pushed her knees away from his head and then pressed a calloused palm flat against her belly button, holding her down on the bed.  
  
“Reyes,” she keened. He glanced up, his mouth never leaving her, and paid witness to her ecstasy. Her head was pushed back against one of the purple pillows, her throat exposed and her breasts rolling up as her back arched in a wave of pleasure.  
  
“Sarita,” he spoke against her. She shivered beneath his hand, whimpers of need dripping from her lips. “Mi reina, mi corazón.” She bucked beneath him, and he watched another shudder of heat roll through her body. Only when she lay still beneath him again did his hand dare find the slick heat of her center. She gasped and thrust against his hand, and it only encouraged him to increase his rhythm. His mouth and hand worked in tandem bringing her close to the edge only to back off and start it all over again.   
  
“Please,” she breathed, her voice breaking with need. She pulsed and shuddered around his fingers, and it felt so good that it pulled a groan from him.  
  
“Please, what?” He asked, and moved to kneel between her thighs. He pressed wet kisses up the inside of her leg, her own moisture on his lips leaving a scented trail, overwhelming his senses. “What do you want, Sarita?”  
  
“You,” she whispered, head back and eyes closed.   
  
For a moment he considered making her say it again, making her look at him. But, while making the Pathfinder beg for him was always a pleasure, reducing her to the verge of mindlessness and into a mewling creature of need felt damn good too.  
  
“Please,” she said again, raising an arm toward him, as if she would pull him to her.  
  
He answered her by plunging into the velvety heat of her core. Sara cried out at his sudden presence within her, her back arching off the bed to press her breasts against his chest.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, snaking an arm under her back. Her mouth was on his, scorching from his lips to his jaw and then up to his ear.  
  
“I want on top,” she breathed against his cheek.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” He asked, smirking. He tightened his grip around her ribs and she took his cue, using her hips and leg to roll him over onto his back. They settled back into each other, and Sara set an excruciatingly slow pace. He groaned at the slow build of tight heat, the motion of her hips grinding against his delicious enough to pull his bottom lip between his teeth. His hands settled on her waist, applying gentle pressure to her movements. “Princesa,” he murmured.  
  
She leaned forward, her mouth at his ear, though she never lost her rhythm. “Do I seem very princess-like to you right now?” She punctuated her words with a forceful thrust.  
  
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Mi reina,” he corrected himself.  
  
She stared at him for a moment, her blue eyes dark under lids brought low with desire. “Better,” she breathed as she sat back again. The new angle pushed him deeper insider her, and he rocked his own hips against hers. She rewarded him by biting her lip and closing her eyes, her hand snaking up to skim feather-light fingertips over her breasts.  
  
They worked together, finding the pace and rhythm that felt best, and it wasn’t long before her wet heat tightened around him, pulling against him with every thrust. His hands gripped her hips, holding her against him as her pace increased. Her hands clutched at his chest, her short nails biting into his skin adding another layer of pleasure to his nearly overloaded nerves.   
  
Sara’s thighs tightened their grip on his sides, and she cried out his name as her rhythm hitched and finally broke against him. She pulsed and spasmed around him, her chaotic thrusts dragging against him until he tumbled over the edge after her. He pressed her against him as his hips lifted, the white hot flash of pleasure curling him toward her. He called her name, and a sea of curses and prayers flowed from him, some in English, others in Spanish, and maybe even some in Shelesh. He wasn’t able to keep track.  
  
She collapsed to splay across his chest with a moan. “I missed you,” she whispered. Her hand ran through his hair and it revived him a little.  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, their bodies tacky with sweat. “I missed you,” he breathed into her hair. His eyelids drooped and he exhaled in contentment.  
  
“Are you going to fall asleep now?” She asked, a smile in her voice.  
  
He shook his head. “No, Princesa.” He yawned, and smiled at her laughter. She rolled off of him, and he immediately missed her warmth. He listened to her soft footfalls as she padded across the room. A moment later he heard the shower start.  
  
“Are you coming?” She called from the bathroom.  
  
Reyes felt the life return to his bones at the prospect of showering with her, and chuckled to himself. She knew it was an offer he couldn’t refuse.


	11. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We're almost there! Huge thanks to everyone that's followed along this far. If you've left kudos or comments, know that you have been unspeakably vital in the continuation of this story. I wouldn't have done it without you guys. 
> 
> Welcome to the beginning of the end.

As if the escape into their own private sanctuary wasn’t enough, Reyes insisted on cooking dinner. Sara sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, and watched him as he moved easily around the room. He was bare-chested, because she was wearing his shirt, and his skin practically glowed with the aftereffects of their shower. He shifted a sizzling pan on the stove top, and the muscles rippled along his shoulder blade. She definitely appreciated the view. And the smell.  
  
“What’re you making?” She asked, sipping the beer he’d opened for her.  
  
He shot her a small smile over his shoulder. “A childhood favorite,” he said. “Lomo saltado.”  
  
Her brow furrowed. “In English?” She asked.  
  
He laughed. “I don’t think there’s an English equivalent.” He tended to the meat in the pan for a moment, and then turned to her. “It was my father’s favorite,” he said. He moved forward and snagged her bottle, taking a deep pull from it.  
  
Sara watched the motion of his throat as he drank.  
  
“Mama made it for his birthday every year.” He shrugged. “And then mine once I was old enough to make requests.” He turned back to the stove, adding the onions, peppers, and tomatoes to the pan.   
  
“So, your mother taught you to cook?” Sara kept her voice carefully neutral. She so desperately wanted to know more about his life before Andromeda, but she didn’t want to stumble onto potentially painful memories.  
  
“She did,” he said. It seemed his mood was impervious to thoughts of his family. He smiled again, and checked the french fries that baked in the oven. “My abuela thought it was silly, and Dad almost had an aneurysm the first time I cooked dinner.”  
  
Sara snorted. “Why?”  
  
He shrugged. “I was the oldest boy, named after him. In his opinion I had no business in the kitchen.” He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “I didn’t care, I just wanted more lomo saltado.”  
  
She took another sip of her beer, and steeled herself. “Dad was the better cook in our house,” she said.  
  
“Oh?” He asked. He poked his head up from the open refrigerator, a dark brow raised. He opened another beer and leaned on the counter across from her.  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “But, he was never home, so Mom always cooked for us.”  
  
“And do you cook?”  
  
Sara considered him for a moment, realizing how bizarre this conversation was. They’d been through so much, had undeniable chemistry, loved each other, and yet they knew so little about one another.  
  
She chuckled, shaking her head. “Not well,” she admitted. “I won’t starve or anything, but don’t expect any home cooked meals any time soon.”  
  
He smiled, an unruly lock of black hair dangling down his forehead. “I’ll just have to teach you.” He took a swig from his bottle, and went back to the stove, this time checking on the small pot on one of the back burners that held rice.  
  
Sara almost argued with him, almost told him not to waste his time, but then she thought of him standing behind her, his hand on hers to guide her through the motions. She took a drink to cover her creeping blush. “I’d like that,” she said a moment later. The smile he shot back at her could have lit the whole flat, and her heart did a ridiculous flutter in her chest.  
  
He reached up and turned a couple knobs on the stove, then spun and opened a cupboard to retrieve two plates. He spooned a healthy serving of rice on the side of each one, then the fries went in the middle of the plate, followed by the steak and the vegetables on top. He set a heaping serving in front of her, then joined her on the second stool.   
  
Sara took a tentative first bite. She wasn’t a picky eater by any means, but she had no idea what lomo saltado was, or how it should taste. She tried to ignore his attentive gaze as she chewed. The steak was a little spicy, but not much. The sauce that everything had cooked in was salty and robust, but the rice and french fries soaked it up deliciously. The vegetables still had a firm texture, contrasting nicely with the softer rice and fries.  
  
“Well?” He asked, obviously concerned with her opinion of the dish. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet.  
  
She groaned, suddenly aware of just how hungry she was. “Reyes,” she said once she’d swallowed the first bite. “This is amazing! I can see why it was your favorite.”  
  
His face lit up with an infectious grin. Pride flickered in his light brown eyes, as well as joy and adoration. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. His voice was softer than she expected, but before she could analyze him further, he turned his attention to his own plate. He moaned as he chewed, and his tongue darted out to catch a rogue drip of sauce on his bottom lip.  
  
“Good?” She smiled at him.   
  
He nodded. “I haven’t made this since before the Initiative.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How much beef sirloin have you found in Andromeda?”  
  
She laughed. “Not much,” she admitted.   
  
“Much?” He asked, incredulous. “You don’t want to know how much this meal cost.”  
  
“Oh, God,” she said. “Reyes, how much did-”  
  
He raised a hand to stop her. “I’m not telling you. Trust me, so far this night has been worth every credit.”  
  
She squinted at him, not quite satisfied with his answer, but unwilling to get into an argument about it. She tapped her beer bottle against the bucket of ice, changing the subject. “When are we cracking this open?”  
  
“After dinner,” he said, satisfied that she’d allowed him his extravagance. He returned to his meal, and she could tell he really did enjoy it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d watched Reyes eat, but she didn’t think he’d ever seemed so enthralled with his food before. But, she had to admit, it was really good.  
  
The meal passed in comfortable silence, and Sara took both their plates to the sink when they were finished. Reyes popped open the champagne, and poured them each a glass. He handed one to her with a grin.  
  
“What’s the occasion?” She asked.   
  
He shrugged. “We’re together.” He clinked his glass to hers. “Do we need more reason than that?”  
  
She considered him, and smiled. “No,” she said. They both drank, and she was surprised by how much she liked the beverage. She giggled as the liquid bubbled in her mouth, leaving sweet little bursts on her taste buds.  
  
He set his glass down, his face suddenly serious. “Well,” he said. “There is one more thing.”  
  
“What?” Sara couldn’t imagine what else he could possibly do to make this night better.  
  
He stepped over to where his bag rested just inside the door. He unzipped it, and pulled a small, decorated box from inside.  
  
“What is that?” She asked carefully. It was too big for jewelry, for which she was thankful. She’d feel awful if he spent a ton of credits on something too delicate for everyday wear.  
  
“Open it,” he said. The hint of a blush tinted his cheeks as he handed the box over to her.  
  
She smiled at the bright purple bow on top of the box, and gingerly tore at the ribbon and paper.  
  
“It’s just paper, Princesa,” he chided.  
  
“It’s pretty,” she argued, but tore at the wrapping a little more aggressively. She let the paper drop to her bare feet, and was surprised to find a rather plain box. “What is it?”  
  
He just chuckled at her, but the heat in his eyes as he took in her every move told her that he expected a big reaction.  
  
She lifted the lid, and stared at the tiny mechanism nestled in soft cotton. “Is this…?” She looked up at him, and it was plain to see he was pleased with himself. “Is this a Savant?” She asked, removing the amplifier with shaking fingers.  
  
“It was once,” he said. “This particular model has been,” he searched for the right word. “Upgraded.”  
  
“Reyes,” she started, but the tremble in her voice made her stop. “This is…”  
  
“The Princesa-1,” he said.   
  
She laughed, shaky at first, but it solidified as she considered the name. “Oh, that’s terrible.” But she grinned at him.  
  
“The worst,” he agreed and there was no hint of regret on his face. He cleared his throat. “I’m told that not even the Asari Pathfinder could fry this new and improved model.”  
  
“How did you get this?” She asked, settling the amp back into its box.  
  
He shrugged. “The Savant-X was easy enough to find.” He took a sip of his champagne. “Then I found some Nexus researchers who were more than eager to jump at the opportunity to make a new amp for the human Pathfinder.”  
  
“For the right amount of credits,” she added.  
  
He tilted his head in admission, but said no more on the matter. “Do you like it?”  
  
“Reyes,” she said, pulling his face down to hers. She pressed an earnest kiss to his lips. “I love it,” she said. “I cannot wait to try it out.”  
  
“How much longer before Lexi clears you?” His voice was a little rough, and he cleared his throat before taking another sip of champagne.   
  
Sara rolled her eyes and sighed. “Probably another two weeks,” she said. “Lexi is naturally cautious, and with Scott hounding her about me all the time, she’s not going to give me any leeway.”  
  
Reyes chuckled and finished off his drink. He leveled a heated gaze her way, letting his eyes travel over her body, concealed only by his white undershirt, in a wholly unwholesome way. “I guess we’ll just have to take care of all that excess energy some other way,” he said wistfully.  
  
Sara bit her bottom lip, then finished off her own drink. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
The smirk on his lips, coupled with the molten quality of his eyes told her exactly what he planned.  
  
  
  


A hand on her shoulder startled her awake. She looked around, disoriented in the dark room. The bed was comfortable and laden with rich fabrics, staring out onto an amazing view of the badlands under the inky night sky of Heleus. This wasn’t her quarters on the Tempest.  
  
“Sara,” Reyes’ rich voice caught her attention. He sat beside her, concern tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Wake up.”  
  
The memories flooded back to her. Two nights spent in Varren’s Scalp, soaking up as much Reyes time in their private hideout as she could. They were supposed to head back to the Port tomorrow, and they hadn’t wasted any of their limited time together. Her weary muscles and the tenderness between her thighs was reminder enough of their endeavors.  
  
“Reyes?” She asked, her voice thick and raspy. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Put on your armor,” he said.   
  
The terse words crumbled any lingering sleep from her mind, and she sat up. “What’s happening?”  
  
He tugged on his last boot, then stood to buckle his holster at his hips. Her ring on his finger glinted in the moonlight. “One of my lieutenants just sent word that there’s movement outside Ditaeon.” He didn’t look at her.  
  
“What?” She shook her head. “Movement? What does that mean?” She needed answers, but she climbed into her N7 armor regardless.   
  
“The Collective maintains lookouts surrounding Ditaeon,” he said. He was suddenly so distant from her, all cold details when just hours before he’d been a burning fever against her skin. “They reported sightings of troop movements outside Ditaeon about fifteen minutes ago.”  
  
“Who would strike Ditaeon?”  
  
He didn’t answer her, and moved across the flat to get his pistol. “Did you bring a weapon?” He asked instead as he tucked the weapon into his belt at the small of his back.  
  
“Of course,” she said. She clicked the last piece of armor into place and pulled her Equalizer from her bag, clipping it into its thigh holster. “You didn’t answer me,” she said.  
  
He sighed. “I don’t know for certain.”  
  
“But you have an idea.” She tried to keep the anger from her voice, but she didn’t quite avoid the accusing tone.  
  
He cast a glance her way, weighing how much to tell her. All this time, after all her understanding and forgiveness, and he still couldn’t just tell her what was going on. He sighed again. “We never found Elora’s men, just a trail of empty bases and datapads.”  
  
“Why didn’t you-” she ran a hand through her hair. “You know what? Never mind.” She pointed to the box on the kitchen counter. “I need my amp.”  
  
“What?” His cool mask cracked at that, and Sara felt a sick satisfaction twist in her gut.  
  
“You’ve seen me shoot, Vidal.”  
  
He winced at her use of his last name.   
  
“If we need anything more than covering fire I’m pretty much useless without my biotics.”  
  
“You’re not ready to use them,” he countered.  
  
She glared at him. “I don’t have much choice now, do I?” She stomped past him, and grabbed the amp herself. She turned and brandished the gift at him. “I can’t put it in on my own.”  
  
He watched her, his golden eyes shadowed in the dark of the room. His hesitation only irritated her further.  
  
“Every minute we stand here arguing about this, is another minute Ditaeon could be burning.” She shoved the amp into his hand then she pulled her hair up and turned her back to him.  
  
He cleared his throat, his fingertips brushing against the pink and puckered scars on the back of her head and neck. “How do I…?”  
  
She took a deep breath to steady the boiling rage she felt towards him just then. “See the two prongs on the end of the amp?” He grunted in the affirmative. “Those jack into the top of my port,” she said. “Like plugging in headphones.”  
  
“Okay,” he said, and she heard him lick his lips anxiously.  
  
His hands were gentle as he held her head still. The amp slid into place with a click only she could hear, resounding through her skull. And then everything was right again. It was like seeing in color for the first time, or the way the world sounded when you surfaced from underwater. Everything felt crisp and right, her biotics transitioning from an aggravating sizzle just beneath her skin to a delicate and comforting hum, all focused directly behind her right ear.  
  
She groaned in pleasure and relief, and leaned back against his chest.  
  
His hands were instantly at her hips, holding her should she need him to. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, concern returning his voice to him. In that moment he wasn’t the Charlatan, he wasn’t even Vidal, the smuggler. He was her Reyes, the caretaker, the man who cooked for her, the tender lover from hours ago. And the fact that he could so consistently change between all three only angered her further.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice hard. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail, and tucked her helmet under one arm. “SAM?”  
  
“Yes, Pathfinder?”  
  
“Run diagnostics.”  
  
A moment of tense silence filled the room. She wanted to yell at Reyes, to throw her helmet across the room, and she really wanted to cry. But she would do none of those things. Her pleasant weekend was over; she was the Pathfinder again.  
  
“The improved amplifier has successfully integrated with your implant, Pathfinder,” SAM answered. “However, I do not recommend the use of offensive biotics until you have had the opportunity to rehabilitate them.”  
  
“Oh,” she said. “I’m about to have plenty of opportunity.” She marched towards the door, and Reyes hurried after her.  
  
“Sara.” He reached for her, and she tore her arm from his grasp.  
  
“Don’t,” she snarled. “We have an outpost to save.”  
  
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he pleaded, his eyes shimmering from the shadows.  
  
The bitter laugh that tore from her throat surprised even her. “Trust me, Vidal.” She blinked back angry tears. “I’m really good that.” She took a deep breath and stepped out the door, Reyes in tow. “SAM, I’m going to need you to run interference,” she said. “Let’s try and mitigate as much damage to my brain as possible.”  
  
“Understood, Pathfinder.”  
  
She really missed the Nomad in that moment. Driving gave her something to focus on, a pedal and steering wheel to unleash her frustration on. Instead she stood behind Reyes as he piloted the shuttle to Sulfur Springs. Luckily, it was a quick flight.  
  
She spun and marched to the cargo bay before he even finished landing, but he caught up to her as the ramp descended.  
  
“What’s the plan?” He asked, cradling an assault rifle he’d had stashed on the shuttle.  
  
“You handle your people,” she said as she stomped down the ramp. “Keep them out of my way.”  
  
“Sara,” he said, his voice soft. “Please, can we talk-”  
  
She spun on him and shoved. “ _Now_ you want to fucking talk?”  
  
He stumbled back, arms raised in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he said, and she could tell he meant it. He always meant it.  
  
“I know,” she growled. “You always are.” She turned away from him and jogged down the ramp, her pistol in hand.  
  
  
  


Christmas Tate ran a tight ship. Sara knew that, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to find colonists in organized military formations, fighting for their home. She was surprised when they cheered at her arrival. She had to admit it felt good, wearing her armor, wielding her gun, and damn if her biotics weren’t sharp.  
  
She had horribly underestimated the new amp. Her first charge had overshot her target by several meters, but it landed her in the midst of several attackers and her enhanced biotic aegis had no problem reflecting all of their bullets back at them. She laughed in triumph, and spun to throw a lance into the back of the target she’d originally missed. Those enemies felled, she located the next batch, and charged into them, her cooldowns significantly decreased with her new amp.  
  
Between the colonists, her improved biotics, and the Collective snipers, Elora’s men had no hope. Sara darted across the outpost, charging between enemies in flickering blue and purple light. The careful rattle of controlled bursts from an assault rifle told her that Reyes was okay, most likely finishing off any enemies she left stunned in her wake.   
  
As she threw a lance into the last raider’s face, her shields took a significant hit. There was a sharpshooter somewhere above her. Sara ducked behind cover, and searched for the sniper. She found him, two levels up from her, but not before Reyes had sneaked up on the gunman. She didn’t care if Vidal had the foe under control, she charged up to them in a fury of swirling light and power. The sharpshooter was knocked back from her blow, and fell the two stories to his death.  
  
She stood still a moment, listening for sounds of battle as her biotics still licked up her arms, like blue flame.   
  
“I think that’s all of them,” Reyes said from behind her.   
  
She spun on him, her biotics flaring, and she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You think?” She yelled. “Are you sure? There isn’t anything else you need to tell me?”  
  
Reyes very deliberately laid his gun on a nearby crate, his free hand held in a placating gesture at his waist. “You’re upset,” he said, his voice smooth, like he was talking down a raging bull.  
  
His calm demeanor only enraged her further. Sara used her biotics to lift and throw the crate, and his gun, across the outpost, shouting with the effort and in frustration. She felt the exact moment when she over did it. It was a subtle feeling, like a twig snapping in her brain, and she felt the warm trickle of blood on her upper lip.  
  
“Pathfinder,” SAM said on their private channel. “Further use of your biotics could lead to irreparable damage.”  
  
The words deflated all her rage, and the blue and purple fire that consumed her faded away.   
  
Reyes was smart enough to keep some distance between them, but his tremulous voice reached out to her. “Sara?”  
  
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. There, on a dark catwalk in Ditaeon, she knew what she had to do. If she could only find the strength to do so.


	12. The Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All right, guys. This is it. Thank you so very much to everyone who read this far, who commented and left kudos. You have no idea how much it means to me, and how much you've all helped me keep my chin up. So... yeah, thanks for that.
> 
> Also... I'm sorry...

Reyes had seen the Pathfinder fight before, but the months must have played with his memory. Or that amp really was something special. Sara was a swirling blur of blue and purple, colliding with enemies and firing off spears of dark energy before any of the outlaws could lay sights on her. As impressive and intimidating as she was, every time she careened across the outpost Reyes’ gut clenched, worried that this charge would be the one that broke her. But, she persisted.  
  
He sought the higher ground, and used his rifle to pick off any enemies that lingered after she carved her way through them. It was obvious that she didn’t need his help, and right now she probably didn’t even want it, but he’d be damned if he let her do all the work. He heard the sniper rifle fire, and saw her stagger, but her shields held. The shot had come from his level, two catwalks up from the ground, and a quick glance showed him the sharpshooter ducked behind a crate about twenty feet away. The sniper was oblivious to his presence, he was so focused on Ryder.  
  
Reyes crept along the metal catwalk, putting his silent feet to good use. He was just about to grab the shooter when the deafening warp of biotics consumed his world. Although there was no actual explosion, he felt like he stood within one. The air stilled around him as time itself seemed to freeze. Everything was some shade of bright, roiling blue or violet, and Reyes couldn’t breathe. Then Sara was there in front of him and everything sped up. The sharpshooter took the brunt of her attack, and he flew from the catwalk, somersaulting through the air until he crashed into the ground with a violent thud.  
  
Reyes stood perfectly still, watching the Pathfinder. She panted as she stood on the catwalk, her back to him. Her biotics writhed along her skin, illuminating her like a fallen star. But she was still, and seemingly whole.  
  
“I think that’s all of them,” he said.  
  
She spun on him, her biotics flaring up like the flames of hades. Reyes’ eyes widened and he took half a step back from her.  
  
“You think?” She shouted at him, taking a step closer. “Are you sure? There isn’t anything else you need to tell me?”  
  
He knew Sara had a temper. He knew she was powerful and impulsive. And he knew he had finally pushed her past her limit. Slowly, deliberately, Reyes set his rifle down on the nearest crate, then lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re upset,” he said.  
  
She flared brighter, but he refused to look away from her. He refused to flinch when she lifted the crate, and his gun, and threw them across the outpost with thrumming dark energy. He refused to back away when that primal scream of anger, frustration, and pain ripped from her chest. He paid silent witness to the pain he’d caused, yet again.  
  
She stilled suddenly, and her eyes closed in on themselves, the way they did when SAM spoke to her privately. Reyes fought the need to go to her as a thin trickle of dark red blood dripped from her nose. He was convinced that moving right then would be a major mistake. They were on precarious ground, and he didn’t want to make any sudden moves.  
  
He watched her deflate, her shoulders slumped and her head dropped forward. Her biotics faded away, and suddenly Ditaeon was so very dark. They stood in silence, and Reyes’ was suffocating, drowning in the unknown that was the dejected woman in front of him.  
  
“Sara?” He asked. He didn’t try to hide his fragile, shaking voice. She didn’t look at him. Her sandy brows were pinched, and she worried at her bottom lip. Suddenly Reyes was certain that he stood on the frozen wastes of Voeld, not in the warm air of a Kadaran night. He took a careful step forward, and she flinched.  
  
“Don’t!” She shook her head, and he watched a single tear escape down her cheek. “Don’t,” she whispered.  
  
This was wrong. This wasn’t his Sarita. His Sara was full of life, brimming with a bright and shining goodness, with indomitable optimism and a sense of humor that could see her through any darkness. And if any of that didn’t work, she was a whirlwind of righteous anger. The woman before him now looked small and lost as she stood on the walkway hugging herself, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“You should go,” she said, barely more than a whisper.  
  
He was breaking. All the torn pieces of his life had been stitched together with her love, and she was pulling the thread. Unraveling him. “What are you doing?” He took another step toward her, and it felt like wading through a river.  
  
“Just go,” she said. “Please.” Her voice broke, and her chin trembled against her tears.  
  
“No.” Another step in her direction. He was so close. If he could just touch her, he knew he could fix this. He was always so much better at showing than telling her. She was the only person in the universe that made his words fail. “What are you doing?” He asked again.  
  
She looked up at the stars and pulled in a shaking breath. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said to the sky.  
  
He felt the color drain from his face. “Doing what, Sara?” There was only one direction for this conversation to take, he knew that. But maybe, if he made her say it, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. He’d make her confront her decision, and hope to every god that ever was that she would see what a horrible decision it was.  
  
“This!” She finally looked at him, her blue eyes swimming in barely contained tears. “The secrets, the convenient omissions,” she paused. “The mistakes.”  
  
He frowned at her. “You said you wanted all the pieces,” he said. “You said you knew I wasn’t a good man.” His voice shook, but the words were coming too fast for him to try and steady it. “I’m trying, Sara. I’m trying to be better.”  
  
Her face crumpled as his words struck her. “It’s not enough,” she said. She gestured to the colony. “We could have lost Ditaeon, Reyes.”  
  
“But we didn’t.”  
  
“But we could have!” She ran a hand through her hair. “I keep trying to look past the secrets, but you won’t let me in!”  
  
“What?” That was ridiculous. She knew more about him than anyone alive. She knew about his abuela, about his brothers. She knew about lomo saltado.  
  
“If you’d told me about the trouble with Elora’s outlaws, we could have boosted Ditaeon’s defenses.” Her hands came up to cage over her face, and he didn’t miss the way they shook. “We could have stationed an APEX squadron to assist in the hunt.”  
  
He gaped at her. The idea had never once crossed his mind. “I… I didn’t think of that,” he admitted.  
  
She swallowed, and when she dropped her hands to her sides her cheeks were streaked with drying tears. “Because you insist on handling everything on your own. We’re supposed to be partners. Kadara is ours, remember?”  
  
“It is,” he agreed. He took the last step to her. All he had to do was reach out, and his hands would find her armor. But suddenly the distance between them seemed so far. “Please,” he said. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”  
  
There was that furrow in between her eyes again, and her lips pursed against another wave of emotion. “I don’t think you can,” she whispered.  
  
“Let me try,” he begged. His hands found her arms, and he held her there, afraid that she would bolt from him.  
  
“I don’t want you to,” she said.  
  
The words cut through him, and he released her, as if she’d electrocuted him.  
  
“You shouldn’t have to give up everything you built just to make this work,” she said. She was crying openly, the tears spilling over the dams of her lower eyelids. “Because that’s what it would take to even try and repair this.”  
  
“I would,” Reyes promised.  
  
“I don’t want that.” She wiped at her face.  
  
“Why not?” He knew now what his fatal mistake had been, and the only way they could have ever worked. She’d offered it to him two months ago, the chance to leave Kadara and be with her. He realized now that he’d sealed his fate that day, everything else had just been borrowed time.  
  
“It shouldn’t be this hard, Reyes.” She sniffled, and he’d never heard such a defeated sound come from her. “It shouldn’t require so much compromise, so much sacrifice from both of us.” She shook her head and looked back up at the night sky. “I can’t keep overlooking who you are when you’re not with me.” She looked around the outpost. “Not when the cost might be so high.”  
  
This was it, he thought. He’d gambled and lost, and now his debt was too much for her to ignore anymore. Suddenly anger bubbled in his blood and he saw red. “That’s what this is really about,” he said, his voice cold with barely controlled rage.  
  
“What?” She looked up at him, confused.  
  
“It’s not about us,” he accused. “It’s about the Charlatan and the Pathfinder.”  
  
“They’re the same thing,” she countered.  
  
“They’re not,” he spat. He paced the catwalk before her, too heated to stand still anymore. “I’ve worked hard to keep the two separated. To keep us clean from what I do.”  
  
“I can’t separate myself from being the Pathfinder,” she said, raising her voice. “It’s who I am.”  
  
“That’s what you don’t understand.” He stepped into her space, looking down on her. “The Charlatan doesn’t define me. He’s just a role I have to play, not who I am.” He glared down at her. How could she be so beautiful when their whole world was crashing down? “A role I play to make Kadara better,” he seethed.  
  
She clenched her jaw and held his gaze. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t understand. I can’t just pick and choose who I’m going to be for the day.” She stepped back, arms out at her sides. “I’m just me. Just Sara Ryder,” she shouted. “Human Pathfinder, for better or worse.”  
  
He wanted to be mad at her, he wanted to feel jilted, but he couldn’t. Standing there in the dark, watching the righteous fury fade in her eyes, Reyes knew that she was right; her way was better. But he could never survive if he let who he actually was blend into who he had to be.  
  
He sighed, all the fight leaving him in a single breath. He ran a hand through his hair. “So, what, then?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Her voice was tiny, so out of place with the biotic goddess she’d been fifteen minutes before.  
  
He closed the distance between them, and he reached a tentative hand to her cheek. She didn’t flinch away, and allowed him to wipe away the blood that had started to dry on her upper lip.  
  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
  
She nodded. “I over did it on the biotics,” she admitted.  
  
“The nose bleed was a good indication.” He smiled, but it felt watered down on his lips.  
  
She returned the smile, and it wavered at the corners of her mouth. “I meant it, Reyes,” she breathed against his lips. When did they get so close? “I can’t do this anymore.”  
  
He nodded. “I know.” He wasn’t sure that he really did, because right then they felt anything but broken up.  
  
She inhaled. “But I meant everything else I said, too.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“All of it,” she said. “This whole time.” She trembled against him. When had they pressed together? When had his hand settled on the small of her back?  
  
The memory of her beneath him in his shuttle bunk flashed into his mind. How the love had flowed between them then, more real than anything he’d ever felt for anyone. The warmth of her voice as she’d told him she loved him for the first time, and his own cowardice as he avoided saying it back. Not because it wasn’t true, but because the truth of it scared him.  
  
And now she was leaving him, and he’d never found the courage to say it.  
  
He stared down at her, her face cradled in his gloved hand, and drank her in. He was determined to remember her face in perfect clarity for when the loneliness became too much. The way the soft curve of her cheek fit perfectly in his palm. The shimmering quality of her bright blue eyes with the emerald centers. Her delicate, sandy brown eyebrows that added so much expression to her face. Her dainty, pointed nose and the way the night breeze played with her short ponytail. But most of all, her lips and the way they curved up on the right side when she was amused, and how they parted ever so slightly when she was aroused. Like right then.  
  
He kissed her, there on the catwalk, and she clung to him. Their lips met with a tender longing, gentle and pleading. Their tongues tangled in slow appreciation, each knowing it was their last dance. Only when a salty wetness intruded did Reyes pull back to look at her.  
  
Silent tears streaked down her face, but even rumpled and heartbroken, he thought she was perfect. Not for the first time, Reyes Vidal knew he was an idiot. He should have said it sooner, he should have said it that day on his shuttle.  
  
“I love you,” he whispered. His voice couldn’t carry the words any louder or it would break under their weight.  
  
She closed her eyes as the words sunk in, and she let out a strangled sob.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner,” he told her, and if there were tears on his own cheeks, neither of them pointed it out. He stroked his thumb against her cheek and then bent down to kiss her again, short and chaste. She hugged him, her face pressed to his chest, and took deep, settling breaths.  
  
“SAM?” She said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.  
  
“Yes, Sara?” Even the AI’s voice sounded subdued.  
  
“Contact the Tempest,” she said. She pulled back from him, but her eyes never left his. “Let them know I’m ready for extraction from Ditaeon as soon as possible.”  
  
“Of course, Pathfinder.”  
  
Her eyes traveled over his face, no doubt trying to memorize him too. Then she took a step back from him, and just like that there was a wall between them. Maybe someday it would come tumbling down, Reyes thought, but for now it was sturdy and new.  
  
“Goodbye, Reyes,” she said. Her voice firm and professional, even if she couldn’t control the quiver in her bottom lip.  
  
He backed away from her and knew exactly how to say goodbye to her. As he backed away, Reyes gave her his best smile, and winked. She laughed, a small, surprised sound as he turned away from her, and Reyes knew he would cherish the sound and carry it with him for the rest of his life.  
  
He walked back to his shuttle, and ignored the tremor in his hands at the controls. He flew back to Varren’s Scalp and gathered her things for Crux to deliver to the outpost. Then he flew to a Collective lookout station and sat on one of the small landing pads built into the rock-face to watch the sunrise. He stayed there until he saw the Tempest land in Ditaeon and didn’t head back to his shuttle until the ship disembarked.  
  
He flew back to the Port, and though his heart was shattered, his mind was calm. He didn’t regret a moment spent with his Santa Sarita. She believed that he could be a better man; she fell from grace and tried to save him from his own shadows. And they had both paid dearly for it. Now that she was gone, Reyes vowed that he wouldn’t allow their sacrifice to be in vain.  
  
And he kept his promises to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know! I'm a terrible person! Writing this scene was extremely painful for me, but don't lose hope. Santa Sarita will return, I promise!
> 
> Until then, thank you, each and every one of you for being an awesome member of this incredible fandom!


End file.
